Scale of a different truth


Once upon a time there was a beautiful young 30-year-old stunner that wanted nothing more in life than to get married and have a couple of babies.

After she hit her 29th birthday she wasn't too picky about things necessarily happening in that order.

Anyhoo, she met the man of her dreams, got married and immediately began plotting and scheming. The man was happy with her aggression and didn't ask any questions.

She thought for sure they would hit the jackpot on the first try.

But it didn't happen on the first try. Or the second try. Or the third. Or the fourth. Or the fifth.

Finally, a year and a half later, she emerged victorious from under a mountain of shots, pills, daily blood draws, calendars, ovulation tests, ultrasounds, thermometers and chickens.

After the baby was born the man and the beauty went about their "business", paying no regard to using caution because there was no way she could get pregnant on her own.

Seven months later they decided to pay another visit to the fertility doctor because she was pushing 34 and thought it might take a really long time again and she didn't want to end up on some documentary about how elderly women shouldn't be having babies.

To their surprise and happiness, they were successful on the first try.

When the second baby was born the man and the beauty suffered matching nervous breakdowns, well chronicled in the beauty's blog, and agreed that sixteen months is too close to have two children. They decided that if they were going to have another baby they would wait at least a year and a half.

So they went about their "business", paying no regard to using caution because there was no way she could get pregnant on her own.

One night the beauty's friend came to visit from out of town and announced she was pregnant. This got the beauty thinking - it had been a long time since she had seen her own monthly visitor. She knew there was no way she could be pregnant and figured her body was still jacked up from breastfeeding the baby she had just 24 short weeks ago. But she was going on a bender that night and wanted to do so guilt-free.

So she drove to the drug store and stood in the pregnancy test aisle holding her one-year-old daughter's hand and carrying her 24-week-old baby in a car seat in the other. The cashier laughed and shook his head as she put the pregnancy test on the counter and said something under his breath in Indian as the three of them shuffled out the door, her one-year-old daughter carrying the pregnancy test because her hands were too filled with babies.

She got home, took the test and set the microwave timer at two minutes. To her overwhelming relief, it was negative.

For one minute and fifty nine seconds it was negative.

Then that bastard, that whore of a pregnancy test, turned not negative.

She was sure it was broken.

Then she drove to a different drug store and bought a three pack of a different kind and those were all broken too.

How could so many pregnancy tests be wrong?

It was a Sunday morning so she paged J.T. her trusty O.B. at home in a complete panic. She knew he was wrong when he told her that she was probably pregnant if four tests said so.

The next day she went in for some blood work and that came back all wrong and broken as well.

Then she went in for some ultrasounds and finally, when she saw that little thing waving to her on the big screen, she finally accepted the fact that she was knocked up real good.

Her first thought when she found out she was pregnant was the delicious golden frosty pilsner beers she had enjoyed just a few nights before. Had she known those would be her last she would have savored every drop.

She had given up alcohol for her two previous pregnancies but the difference was like your grandma dying in a car accident vs. your grandma dying in a nursing home. They both suck but at least in the nursing home you're prepared. You have time to say your slow and delicious goodbyes.

Reactions have ranged from:

"Oh my gosh - you got pregnant on your own! It's like a little miracle!" - The beauty's friend Christina
"Are you trying to kill yourselves?" - The beauty's brother-in-law Josh
"I thought you might be pregnant but I didn't want to say anything because I know you've been working out." - The beauty's Mom
"How did this happen? No, really. I'm asking you seriously. Medically. Scientifically. How did this happen?" - The beauty's (alleged) baby daddy

She decided she could either freak the fuck out, or be happy about this situation. After she freaked the fuck out, she decided to be happy and in order to be happy she would banish all thoughts about the following:

1. Triple strollers
2. Logistics of any kind, including, but not limited to: meal time, grocery stores, sleeping, changing diapers and leaving the house
3. Merlot, pilsners or getting through the day without the help of alcohol of any kind
4. Her poor stretched out saggy stomach, that had just started to redeem itself through her personal trainer Kate
5. Mini vans or vehicles of any kind with hallways
6. Any negative pregnancy side effects, including, but not limited to: leg cramps, crushing hip pain, additional stretch marks covering the one square inch of her stomach that wasn't already disgusting, aching boobs or back pain
7. Explaining her situation to every single person in the mall, grocery stores, church, Babies R Us, restaurants or any other public place
8. Giving up the half marathon in October

Instead, she decided to focus on the following:

1. Chubby little hands touching her face (the baby's, not hers)
2. Guilt-free pancakes, burritos and ice cream
3. Getting to pull out all her cute maternity clothes
4. Attention
5. Presents
6. Her kids having built-in playmates
7. Guilt-free pancakes
8. Giving up the half marathon in October

Now your job is to write #9 before she throws herself off the roof.


The Klinge's said...

#9 - The first moment you see your brand new baby ;)
#10 - The SMELL of a freshly bathed baby ;)
#11 - The automatic excuse, "I just had a baby" instead of a diet ;)
#12 - The chance that this one could be a boy! ;)

What can I say, I'm an overachiever! Congratulations!

Tara K. said...

#9. Never again running into writer's block for the blog. There will ALWAYS be a story for the trusty addicted readers.

Congratulations! (Don't punch me in the face) If you need to borrow my 12 year old, we can ship her your way--she's great at cooking and cleaning. Not so much in the babysitting dept, though.

Leslie said...


*takes a shot for you*

michael said...

Michael makes a wonderful name for a boy, and cousins are eternally grateful for being honored in such a way. : ) Congratulations, cousin. I hope grandma Julie and grandpa Tom are holding up well. Oh...and I guess Thomas might be a suitable name as well. : )

Hannah said...

Actually Nick is really pulling for Michael. My big problem with it is that everyone... EVERYONE mispronounces our last name as "Meyers". I can see Meyer, because of the hot dog, but don't know where the "s" comes from. And I don't think I have to tell you that Michael Meyers is the psycho killer in all the Halloween movies. Nick sees that as a positive.

Abbey said...

#10- The more kids you the better your life will be. Trust me I have 4 and some days think would nice to have more.
#11-Also having them close together at least if you lucky they will all be moving out close to the same time, that was our thought anyway.
Congratulations, planned or not planned babies are always a blessing!

angie duclos said...

PRIMO PARKING at the Mall, Bank, Grocery store...

angie duclos said...

I also just noticed the pregnancy test was the marker on the scale.

Unknown said...

#9 I now have another reason to send baby coupons to you!

Veronica said...

I think guilt-free pancakes could be listed about a billion more times. ;) Congratulations! So glad I didn't skip to the most recent posts or else I would have missed this little nugget of hilariousness. I'll probably read this in a future post, but when are you due? Ironically, I'm due on Labor Day. But if my first is any indication of how this one will arrive, we'll have to smoke him out a week later.