I generally try not to make light of serious situations…
Well, that was a lie. That’s exactly what I do. But in my defense, I try to do it with no angle and to purely see the silly in some things.
I don’t want to touch upon the issue of abortion in general. It’s such a personal issue and as I’ve mentioned, it’s a hot button topic that has been hashed out amongst many for years. But I do want to point something out for you.
Now, check out how ridiculous the picture is that is accompanying this article. A bunch of young girls (in similar shades of blue), smiling, laughing, hanging out…for an abortion article. And please note, the token boy in the background. Just plain weird and silly.
At 34 weeks, do not ask me to bend over. If a piece of food falls out of my mouth and bounces off my bump to ultimately end up on the floor, it just is what it is.
“Lucky that my breasts are small and humble…so you don’t confuse them with mountains.”
“I put my hand up on your hip…when I dip, you dip, we dip.” Obvi we dip.
These are some of my favorite lines from songs. Do you know the songs? Tell me some of yours. It’s a delightful game that is sure to put a smile on your face if you are in a pissy mood.
A new acquaintance invited our family over for dinner last night and I asked TH what I should bring. He said: Bake and bring your chocolate/white chocolate cookies…I want to show off your skill. (not a typo)
Over the years, I have discovered there are some topics that are just hot, creating a heated debate no matter how the subjects are broached. These topics make people’s blood boil and break up friendships. In my opinion these topics are the following:
1. Abortion 2. Gun Rights 3. Breastfeeding 4. Redshirting a kindergartener (for reals)
I think these topics are so personal and heated that I’m not sure I will ever attempt to discuss them on this blog. Although you never know, crazier decisions have been made, I’m sure.
Okay, I recently decided I’d like to add one more topic to the “hot button” issues. This is a sleeper, the dark horse. It’s actually a topic that is never labeled “heated”; but I assure you, the heat runs deep among those who even have an opinion.
5. The Minivan
So immediately your thoughts turned to 1 of 2 things: 1) Ain’t no minivan ever making a presence in my life or 2) I LOVE MY FUCKING MINIVAN!
A friend of mine asked me if I was going to change cars when I have 3 kids. Before I could respond, she said, “Let me guess, you’re not a ‘minivan’ person.” She has a Honda Odyssey.
When I was about 25, I remember making a comment regarding how I will never own a minivan. So that was 11 years ago (and I was clearly immature…no side comments). Here is what a minivan looked like 11 years ago to a young quarter-life crisis law student:
Whether that’s what all minivans looked like or not didn’t matter, that’s what they looked like to me. And growing up, none of my friends’ parents had minivans, even if they had multiple kids, because car seat requirements weren’t as strict and so we were all in the front seat or the station wagon’s way back doing headstands and pretending we were strangling the other person to the car behind us.
As it turns out, this city has some quirks and throughout my posts I try to delicately touch upon them without being totally offensive. One of the quirks is the parking spaces. They are small. Whether they say compact or not, they are small. I’ve lived in urban cities and suburban cities, I’ve always had an SUV in these places. I’m not exaggerating about Seattle…pah-lease!
After moving here and having 2.0, parking spaces were so tight, I couldn’t open the door wide enough to fit his bucket through. And as it turns out, some SUV doors are actually shorter in length than sedans. At times I would have to go in through the trunk gate and get him over the seat into his base. Then comes the epiphany…automatic sliding doors.
My first step was to ask T.H. if there was a body shop where we could take my 4Runner and have them change my doors to sliding. This was the conversation (I’m Jim in this scenario of course):
Okay, so when that was considered a no-go (which, honestly, I still think could be done), T.H. said, why don’t we get a minivan.
But seriously, forward the clock 11 years and this is what a minivan looks like to a 36 year old parent of almost 3 kids living in a city that thinks it’s funny to have whole parking lots be compact spaces:
Serenity.
And ever since he mentioned it, I’ve been obsessed with getting one. Honestly, the convenience that a minivan offers is so unreal to me that I can’t understand why I wouldn’t get one. Automatic sliding doors, multiple seat configurations, the media/entertainment options, the cargo space while still holding 7-8 people, the ease of getting to the 3rd row and now the Odyssey has both a beverage cooler and built in vacuum. And just as a side note: I vacuum my car weekly…so…
I’ve been trying to think, why are so many people vehemently against the minivan? What does it symbolize in our society that is so off-putting? Some things come to mind: a big tush…a shlumpy housewife…life is only about the kids and their carpools…losing all red light drag races…just to name a few.
I guess the minivan does pose the problem that any hotness I may have retained through 2 kids is vanished once I step out of my minivan. I require T.H. to drive a car that he looks hot driving. Remember, I’m Blue Ribbon, he’s Trophy, the standards are different, I’m not expected to look hot driving my car…he is. And I will likely not look hot driving a minivan…or will I?
But honestly, what does “society” (and I guess by society I mean a 25 year old Christian Bale look alike) think of me in my mom SUV right now? I’m woman enough to know he’s not checking me out anyway. If I’m shlumpy, I’ll be shlumpy. If I have a big tush, I’ll still have a big tush regardless of a minivan or a Lexus LX. I don’t discriminate.
And yes, if you are a car person, there is no denying, the red light drag races mentioned above are likely a thing of history. I’m kind of hoping with any amount of children in your car, those races are nonexistent anyway. I won’t be driving the Autobahn in my Toyota Sienna. But I am likely to be watching Blue Crush in HD at some point from the fully reclining backseat of my car during a road trip while drinking my ice cold can of root beer. And as a BRW, Blue Crush and my root beer are much more important to me than a car that can “corner like it’s on rails”.
This decision is not yet final. I will do research, test drives and check out all the options for the best car for us; but I’m pretty sure I figured out the argument to end all arguments about the minivan:
I feel like this post doesn’t even need text because the title is awesome. But that’s stupid.
So this weekend I went to my 4th wedding of the year (3rd being pregnant, aka, sober). This was the wedding of one of the best people in my life, a friend from law school (“J”). In the words of J, I was either going to be fun or not regardless of the drinking. I have no idea how to take that, but it has nothing to do with any sort of emotional roller coaster I ride every day. And whether anyone else thinks this or not, I was fun! Many shenanigans were had despite my sober state. However, due to my sober state, I remember the shenanigans and can bring them to light for those who created the chaos, so that’s a plus!
But back to my point, pre-eating. This is awesome. So 6 of us were in the car on the way to the rehearsal dinner when I opened my purse and took out a Quaker Oats Chewy chocolate chip granola bar. For some reason, I crave these during every pregnancy. As I am eating, my friend “G” says, “Ah, the pre-eating.” I looked at her in astonishment and said, “Oh my goodness, whatever that means, I love it and want to use it!”
Turns out G’s cousin was pregnant with her first child when she called G and said, “I finally understand the pre-eating.” G wasn’t sure what she was talking about; then her cousin explained, “You and I were on our way to a family brunch when you were pregnant and you pulled out some food and started eating. All I could think was, why on earth are you eating as we are on our way to brunch. But now that I’m pregnant, I totally understand. You were pre-eating because you are always hungry when pregnant regardless of when the meal is.”
And that’s exactly what I was doing on the way to the rehearsal dinner which was going to immediately include chips and guacamole as you walked through the door. In no way did my pre-eating hinder the actual eating. If anything, it helped prepare my stomach for the gluttony it was about to experience.
Now, pre-eating is not specific to pregnancy. I’m sure there are countless situations in which people pre-eat, such as low blood sugar, tendency to be hangry (yes, hybrid, let’s move on) or weight management (you know, those people that fill up on a huge salad or carrots before going out so they don’t binge on the meal – and if you are that person, you are closer to a trophy wife on the spectrum than a blue ribbon wife, just fyi, because as noted above, BRW pre-eating prepares the stomach). It just so happens that the label “pre-eating” was derived from a pregnancy situation.
I’ve got to be honest, I couldn’t be more excited about this new term in my life. That, and a statement I overheard at the wedding by the drunkest guest, “I spilled a drunk drink on you.” Both epic moments that will continue to live on for my amusement and I’m assuming the amusement of Trophy Husband. (Note: always assume the amusement of the spouse when you are a BRW, it helps, I promise.)
Sidebar: Advice when attending a wedding with a pregnant friend – don’t expect her to dance, but if she does, do not make fun of her…even if she pulls a muscle in her groin.
Let me go ahead and answer all the questions you can’t help yourself from asking the moment you hear that.
I did not grow up on a farm and did not work on a farm, therefore, am not a farmer.
I do not know how to husk corn. I actually don’t know what it means to husk corn. If it has something to do with shucking corn, I still don’t know what it means.
I am a Nebraska Cornhusker fan (still don’t know what a “cornhusker” is as stated above)…as are 99% of Nebraskans, people married to Nebraskans and people who have ever been to Lincoln’s Memorial Stadium on football Saturday.
I have not gone cow tipping…and by the way, no one has.
Cows do not roam in my backyard (remember when I said I don’t live on a farm?).
Yes, Nebraska is flat (but not really) and if it was the worst part of your drive from Chicago to San Francisco then I’m pretty sure you were asleep through Nevada.
No, I’m not a Sooner fan. I’m not from Oklahoma. I’m from Omaha. They are not the same place despite how many times my luggage has flown to Oklahoma City instead of Omaha.
I’ve never seen a tornado. When those sirens go off, I tend to err on the side of taking shelter in my basement…call me conservative.
Yes, I’ve heard of the song from Counting Crows and you can stop singing it. Actually, it’s a great freakin’ song so sing away.
Omaha is somewhere in middle America (keep singing). It’s in the state of Nebraska. Don’t ever tell a Midwesterner again that you don’t know where their state is. We know where your state is…bitch (just pretend Jesse Pinkman said that).
I’m from the city (in response solely to people from Nebraska but not from Omaha).
Peyton Manning does say “Omaha” a lot…and we all smile a little when he does.
There’s more. I’m also Jewish. Crazy talk…Jews in Nebraska? As Tevye said, “Unheard of, absurd.” I should be able to check a box under the minority section of applications for this anomaly.
Regardless of the fact that I spent the first 8 years of my life in another state (one that if I had stayed in would likely have failed to teach me the geographic location of all 50 states…see Jesse Pinkman above), I always say I’m from Nebraska…mostly because I went through puberty there. And let’s be honest, I have now created a bit of diversity to your acquaintances. You too can now be proud to say you know someone from Ohio…you mean Omaha.
Much love to my peeps in tornado valley. May your sunsets be beautiful, your humidity fall below 90%, your black ice be visible, your football team win and your corn continue to be used for…well, everything.
No, not a Prius. Not a car at all. Words. Hybrid words. I have a bizarre disdain for them. I have no idea where this passionate dislike stems from. I do know that I discovered this distaste when introduced to the word “ridonculous.” And ha! Spell check doesn’t even have a correction for that because IT’S A STUPID WORD!!!!! Who coined it? I need to know. I’m gonna do some research, I’ll be right back.
Oh wait, turns out it’s “ridonkulous.” Even dumber because this implies something to do with a donkey and there is nothing that has to do with a donkey here unless you are discussing what a jack ass of a word it is. At least some hybrid words are an actual combination of 2 words that have a relationship. Like “ginormous.” OMG, I literally gag when I write or read these. I mean, the definition says ginormous is circa 1948. Loss of respect immediately for that generation…no need for that RIDICULOUSNESS.
Yes, I did once, in a post, use the term “hangry.” Let me be clear, I did not coin that term, nor do I support it. I was merely giving a shout out to a friend. It actually gives me a feeling in my mouth that is a combination of hair and metal from a hanger. So clearly, it goes on the list.
Now this all being said, you may have noticed I like to use words that are not necessarily official words, such as heinosity. This is totally different. I don’t mind new words as long as they are not ridonkulous hybrids.
Feel free to let me know of any others I missed (any that you like or share a disdain for); although I need some time to prepare Trophy Husband for the amount of vomit that will spew as I read each word.
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