Party Like It’s 1992 - Family

February 7, 1992 • 1:10 a.m.

Did I just wet my pants a little bit?? No… I am, like, totally, 42 weeks pregnant… That has to be my water breaking… 

AND THUS BEGAN MY ILLUSTRIOUS CAREER OF MOTHERHOOD.

That baby turned 25 the other day and despite the challenges (super-poor, a string of stalkers, household hygiene issues, pretending to be a graphic designer/art director, more babies, homeschooling, Fran Shea’s Cat Ranch, and Zeichen Press) he still tolerates me.

#blessed

I made a birthday card and I’ll show it to him after I explain where babies come from.

Oh, and SPEAKING OF BIRTHDAYS, RSVP licensed more of our art.

Have I mentioned how much Millie The Dog barks at anything and everything within a 500 foot perimeter of our house? Mailman, delivery-person, solicitors, neighbors, guests, the kids, trick-or-treaters, my mom… We’ve talked a lot about it and she feels super responsible for alerting us – I told her that we really don’t need that kind of help, BUT WE DID. SHE WAS RIGHT. SHE’S ALWAYS RIGHT.

SO, my driveway was full of a dumpster filled with bathroom remodel debris, Millie was having a staycation with a friend, AND SOME JERK CLIPPED THE LOCK ON OUR SHED AND STOLE MY BIKE.And he threw the lock in the dirt like some sort of criminal.

AND THEN, the loser (no judgment) tried to sell MY bike on a site called OfferUp.com.

But he is as slippery as an eel wrapped in a banana peel, and disappeared INTO THE NIGHT. Police have been alerted, prayers to St. Anthony have been said. I asked St. Anthony if he could forward my prayers onto the Patron Saint of Stolen Goods and he told me to go back to sleep and stop Googling escutcheons for the new bathroom.

FINE.

While I wait for my miracle, I spend days mindlessly migrating ALL of the content from the Zeichen Press site to THE NEW Zeichen Press site. DON’T WORRY, you won’t even be able to tell the difference because we wanted to spend a lot of money on something that nobody notices.

OH, and Jen got some new/old cutsso I made a Father’s Day Card out of that little man.BACK TO MIGRATING/WEEPING.

I did the math and figured out that two toilets MINUS one toilet EQUALS one toilet. And one shower MINUS one shower EQUALS zero showers.

I desperately yelled that equation to the boys during my bathroom demo, but they pretended not to hear me.I only gave birth to them to provide me with free manual labor. Ha! Who’s laughing now, boys??

Anyway, who needs a shower??OR a bath??I barely do.

And as soon as all of my family and friends get back from being out of town for a month, they’ll tell you the same.

Here’s a new birthday card/fantasy:

Everyone celebrates Jenmas Eve differently.*I* like to go to Hot Plate SANS Jen to eat a Mexican Omelet surrounded by a gallery of paint-by-number masterpieces.

YEARS AGO, Jen (carefully) slaved away over *her* masterpiece and it sits atop a shelf of knick-knacks in Cape Cod. 

She was so dedicated! 

I bet she knew that someday I’d repay her in birthday cards.

“What street is this??” I yelled up to the boy watching us float past him. He told me that we were just about to enter the Ninth Circle of Hell.

PHEW! Almost done!

Three hours to travel 2.5 miles… Could we have walked faster than the creek carried us? Oh, THAT’S the point my kids were making when they got out of their tubes and dragged them the last four blocks! Oh, kids! So subtle!

I didn’t get a photograph of them on our adventure, BUT a giant spider landed on my belly! AND who needs a picture of all three when one of them modeled for the company that made our tubes?

(Grip those handles! Safety first, Dylan!)

I only thought the creek-pollution caused blindness one time and I only lost my sunglasses one time — I’d call that a win!

Here’s a card, maybe inspired by laughter-induced bladder incontinence. MAYBE NOT.

My little sister had baby #2 last week, she gave birth at home but, strangely, didn’t ask me to participate.

Despite my lack of presence, the birth went off without a hitch because anyone can boil water and get towels. (SORRY MOM.)

I will give her this card the next time I break in to her house:

ALSO, I made this because I am so into politics:So, you don’t need to watch the news tonight. You’re welcome.

Cape Cod 2016 is (so far) drama AND cage-free. Wait, we did lose one member of the party searching for the water shut-off valve in the cellar.

He was brave and will be missed.

More importantly, we never found that shut-off valve! One life wasted.

But we must carry on, he would have wanted it that way.The very next day was filled with so much splashing and laughter and sunscreen, I’m sure Ben was looking down on us and giggling! Oh, how he’d giggle!AND here’s a little thing from The Boston Globe about Millennials’ loving PAPER greeting cards. DUH.

Tib knows it’s summer because the screens are on.

And *I* know it’s summer for other, more important, reasons.But I’m trying to be a better person/less into body-sculpting, so I decided to read a book. It was written by The Intern’s daughter, Nora McInerny Purmot.Chapter 25 was especially fun to read because Madge is so near and dear to my heart and I could relate to the notion of elder-abuse.Except my mom has made it very clear that she wants to be euthanized via pillow-suffocation, pre-elder-abuse.

Oh, mom!

Remember last year when my lung collapsed and my mom had to sleep on a cot in my dingy bedroom so she could walk me to the bathroom in the middle of the night?And EMTs had to come to that same dingy bedroom, on that very same night, because we thought my chest-tube had fallen out?

No?

I know you’re wondering if the EMTs were cute and why my bedroom was so dingy. Um, my mom volunteered to be their Resusci Annie doll and I’ve been a little too busy building the Zeichen Press Empire to focus on home-making frivolity.

But, between choosing paper/envelopes for the Spring Release and conquering territories, I did refresh my bedroom. And now I see no reason to ever leave it.Choosing paint color is just like choosing ink color. But with less Jen and more anxiety.

Speaking of self-medicating (was I?) here’s a Spring Release teaser (see/buy ALL 12 from the shop!):

1985 : Minneapolis

One 13 year old girl (me) biked to Calhoun Square in Uptown to buy a record for her friend’s birthday and almost kept it for herself (myself).

I might have forgotten to ask to borrow the bike from my sister. And might have forgotten to ask permission from my mom to bike there. And I might have not brought a bike lock. And the bike might have been stolen from the entrance where it was super-discreetly parked behind the Calhoun Square signage. AND I might have had to walk home. 

But how could I not risk everything (being grounded) to get that album when I was pretty sure Prince wrote Paisley Park about me??:

Colorful people whose hair

On 1 side is swept back

Sigh.