Archive | April, 2008

Why Monty Python Makes For A Bad Birthing Coach

Thirteen years ago today, Dr. Beldon induced labor and I was preparing to welcome a boy into the world.  Brian was actually due on April 15th.  Being the Brian who is never in a hurry, he decided he liked my womb and was not in any hurry to leave.

EVER.

He was probably looking for his shoes back then too…

My ex-husband Terry and I kicked around some Irish boy names and were contemplating Brandon, Bret, Brendt and Brian.  All that day, as Brian refused to budge (even with the help of Petocin) we still couldn’t decide on his name.

Back in 1995 VH1 played music all day and then at 5:00 pm switched to the Comedy Channel, a precursor to Comedy Central.

At 5:30 pm Brian finally decides to co-operate and allow himself to be coaxed out into the world as VH1 switches from music to comedy.  Twenty minutes later, while in the middle of some major pushing and swearing, small voices can be heard saying:

Brian: I’m not the Messiah! Will you please listen? I am not the Messiah, do you understand? Honestly!
Girl: Only the true Messiah denies His divinity.
Brian: What? Well, what sort of chance does that give me? All right! I am the Messiah!
Followers: He is! He is the Messiah!
Brian: Now, fuc* off!
Arthur: How shall we fuc* off, O Lord?”

My doctor turns around, looks up and says, “What in the heck is that?  Do you want me to have it turned off?”

I look up and notice it is Monty Python’s Life of Brian.

“God no!  Are you kidding me?” I respond, “It’s perfect.”

I sigh, “His name is Brian.”

Thus Brian was born during The Life of Brian.

However … we prefer to tell him he is named after Brian Boru.

Happy Birthday Brian.

Love,

Mom

Until next time-

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

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Why Use Torture When We Have Teenagers?

It is said that inside the CIA, water boarding is cited as the technique that got Khalid Sheik Mohammad, the prime plotter of the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, to begin to talk and provide information.  I can always tell an organization run by too many men, or not enough people who have children.

Because my friends, why water board when you can just have Mr. Kebab, excuse me, Mr. Khalid spend time with a bunch of children, where he is the only one who can see to their needs 24/7?  I know many of you survive child extortion torture on a daily basis, but at least the lovely little devils eventually fall asleep and we have our reprieve from:

“Mom?”

“MOM!”

“Mom?”

“Mom, can I…?”

“Mom!?”

“Mom, do you know where (insert everything they never put away here) is…?”

“M O M?”

“Mom…”

“Uh, Mom..?”

“M o m.”

“mom.”

“Mom.”

“Mom, do you have (insert money amounts you will not part with here)?”

“Mom?”

“Mom, I’m hungry.”

“Mom, can we (insert anything you don’t want them doing here)?”

“Mom?”

“Mom.”

“Mom, do you (insert any question you don’t want to answer here)?”

“Mom?”

“Mom…”

“Mom, why can’t I (picture the sound of a shrieking owl, because this is the tone children use when they are determined to have something where you would rather ship them to a boarding school in France than give).”

“Mom, but why?”

“Mom.”

“Mom!”

“Mom.”

“Mom, my friends are (anything following this beginning is never good)”

“Mom.”

“MOM?”

“Mooooommmm….”

“Mom.”

“Mom, I need (whatever-it-is-you-already-bought-them-paid-too-much-for-and-now-they-can’t-find-and-want-you to-buy-it-again-goes-here).”

“Mom?”

“Mom…”

“Mom.”

“mom?”

“Mom!!”

“MOM!!!!”

“M o m.”

“Mom.”

(Sigh) “Mom.”

And this is just the first 15 minutes of our day.

But,

Maybe Mr. Khalid had a bunch of kids and was numb to constant battering of questions 24/7, and found a CIA interrogation a piece of cake by comparison.  Maybe the CIA had no choice.  I mean, my God, if I can survive the teenage years and the constant battering of “I wannas”, I think could survive swimming the English channel, when I hate cold water, hate water up my nose, fear water where I can’t see the bottom and dislike how I look in a bathing suit… without ever giving away a government secret.

“Mom?”

“MOM!”

Oh, hears a shock.  Just now while I’m peacefully writing, Brian is screaming my name, well not my name, my title (MOM) from the front yard, of course we all know Brian wants me to get up from here rather than him having to come in the house and find me.

Hmmm … how long can I sit here and endure the sound of my name being screamed from the front yard?

“MOM??”

Damn, I need to get up … I actually like my neighbors.

Until next time-

C

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

PS.  I know there are many of you great Dads out there who also experience this on a daily basis (times 10) feel free to insert “DAD!” where ever you see the word Mom. Because you are probably hearing “Dad?” while reading this and a long list of “Honey dos” from your wife, girlfriend, aging mother etc.

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