While I’m relieved to have been tagged by Jay because it gets me off the hook of having to come up with something to write about, I’m no dummy. He tagged me because of my boobs. They are fabulous, aren’t they? And that’s after Junior! Is it any wonder I’ve gotten calls from Playboy and Maxim?
Too bad I’m missing all those teeth.
Anyway, here are six things you don’t know about me. Should you care? Frankly, I’m not sure.
1. I've been trying to find my gym teacher for 24 years. In third grade I stole a necklace from my gym teacher, Mr. McKirnen. He had taken it off and put it on the mat, and I slipped it into my pocket. When he realized it was missing he told all the boys to empty their pockets. He never questioned the girls because he said, “Girls don’t steal.” I’ll never forget this one kid, Kurt. He had turned the pockets of his Boy Scout outfit inside out and was on the verge of tears because the gym teacher kept hammering him with questions. I still have that necklace and I still feel like shit whenever I think about it. I wish I had been caught. I also wish I could find Mr. McKirnen so I could give him his necklace back. (P.S. I'm sorry Kurt! You were such a cute Boy Scout!)
2. My scar isn’t from a Sand Shark bite. I have a long, jagged scar on my knee from surgery I had as a kid (I had a huge, precancerous mole removed—huge). For most of my life I’ve told people I was bitten by a shark (can you blame me?). At my old job I made the mistake of telling the man who wrote the company newsletter and guess what was in the next issue? A little Q&A box with the question, “Who from marketing has survived a shark attack?” After that I was hounded with questions, particularly from a woman who had survived something traumatic and wanted to know if I was afraid of swimming in the ocean? Clearly she was looking for me to say something inspirational. I told her I didn’t want to let fear run my life so I swam as much as I could (conquer your fear, etc.) and while I was saying it, I felt cheesy. I don’t think you should let fear run your life, but I felt like a poser.
3. I’ve never really liked kids. Their noses run and they yell and talk back and they’re greedy. When I was pregnant, people called me the Anti Pregnant Woman (are you really surprised?). I didn’t like being pregnant and I didn’t want to talk about being pregnant. When I was 37 weeks my OB actually asked me, “You realize you’re pregnant, right?” because during my check ups I’d try to talk about other stuff, like gardening. Since having Junior I’ve softened but if you had to choose between Billy Bob from “Bad Santa” and me to teach your fifth grader, he’d be a much better choice.
4. I’ve cried during the Hills. Wait—don’t go! I didn’t cry because of the ridiculous drama. One night, when Junior was six months old, he had finally fallen asleep and I finally had some time to zone out and there it was on MTV. One of the girls—fine, LC— was in Paris and she was having the time of her life and it got me thinking about all the international travel I used to do for my last job (the shark bite place) and how free and glamorous I used to feel. LC even went to one of the bars I went to. It really hit me how much my life had changed post-Junior. I was a world traveler turned Mulletville inhabitant. My suitcase used to hold a camera and foreign street maps; now I had a diaper bag stocked with pureed peas and Burt's Bees butt cream. So yah, I cried a little.
5. I’m a reformed snooper. Once, way back when, Chuck and I took a break. We had been close to getting married. I could tell my mom wasn’t taking the news well but she wouldn’t talk to me about it so I read her journal. I know, it was shitty of me, but I wanted to know how she really felt. I stopped when I read “they would have had beautiful babies together.” From the safety of the present I can be breezy and say it all worked out; from the sadness of that moment I’ll say that I will never forget seeing those words on the page.
6. I eavesdrop. The last time my dad was over—yep, that time—he was in the kitchen holding Junior and he didn’t think anyone was listening but I was standing in the doorway. He leaned close and he whispered in Junior’s ear, “You don’t even know it yet, but you have the best mom in the world.” I stepped into the hallway and thought holy shit, I’m going to remember that for the rest of my life.
There you have it. I’ve been a thief, a liar, a kid hater, a connoisseur of junk TV, a snoop, and an eavesdropper. Since it's a holiday weekend and everyone needs a break, I'm not going to tag anyone. Your prize for making it through my six teats—I mean, treats?
A shot of my hooters the day we brought Junior home from the hospital. Crazy how my stomach went flat the very same day, huh? I must be a celebrity mom or something!
About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.