More Parallel Universe

Do you ever want to blog and you can't because your daughter is walking around 9 months pregnant and she hit you accidentally with her babytummy twice today and you find yourself just lying on your bed because you want the baby to come out but he won't so you just lie there on the mattress thinking about your daughter birthing and you can't stop trying to imagine it so you just keep thinking and laying there when you could be blogging but instead of the blogging you roll over and grab a handful of cashews because soon the baby will be here and you know that then there will be no lying around and cashew grabbing or reading of "Wuthering Heights" (lots of big words in that one I'll tell you) and when the birthing finally does happen all there will be is you, just you you you and you being all supportive and helpful and not judgemental about ANYTHING; and you know that in a matter of days that that's all there will be in the entire whole wide world and universe, all there will be is just you, being the perfect earth mother-of-the-mother, the perfect earth mother who keeps smiling all the time no matter what and is never in a bad mood and does cooking and is supportive and keeps her mouth shut and doesn't say anything like: "Binkies cause nipple confusion?" or "Huh?"and the Perfect Earth Mother would never ever ever say: "You can't put this snugly yet lovingly made (by a very attractive grandma) quilt in his bed with him?" or the P.E.M. absolutely would not say: "I put all my babies on their tummies backs and sides and nothing ever happened to them." so you as a Perfect Earth Mother don't say any of that archaic Grannie sounding kind of stuff because in actuality you're young and hip and now and happnin' (although saying happnin' might make you not so happnin'), and since you realize that by not saying those things it will keep life upbeat and happy and supportive, so you very strongly plan on not saying stupid things and keeping that smile pasted on, but you don't trust yourself to do it, so you run to your bedroom and fling yourself on the bed and grab around wildly for the nuts? Grab for nuts wildly like a blind man that has no elbows in his arms?

Does that ever happen to you?

It Does?

Well then, how about this one: When you explain it to everyone, do you have to explain the whole thing in one big ginormous expansivly ridunkulous sentence?

You Do?

Just so you know...

You and I?

We're Simpatico.

Which, by the way, is something that should cause you to fear and tremble.

It's the ADDWAEOTR

I am finally posting because of my neice Annier. She informs that it has been eleven days since the last post. Annie, whilest I had a chuckle at your comment, and I'm still kind of jiggling because of it, I haven't posted for 11 days because I don't know what to say. I have writer's block.

At first I thought it was because of Up Chuck. Up Chuck is my nephew-nephew. Is that what you call a nephew's child? His mommy has been undergoing a stem cell transplant, and every time I would think about my blog, and it's ridiculousness (my TV watching, my getting you to feel sorry for me, my running amok thought processes...) I would just feel shallow and then more shallow. There are people out there (Up Chuck's parents and grandparents and sisters for starters ) who are living life gracefully and dealing with real earth life issues. And I wanted to blog about how wonderful I think they are but I just couldn't do them justice. So I stuttered.

Then I thought I couldn't blog because of the Baby Mama. I had a good blog all started and then she shoved it underground and I was told (with quite a bit of hormone edge) to blog about my own life. Point taken. Although too bad for you because I had really good material about her slipping back into life as it was in high school. Lots of funny stuff about waiting for her boyfriend to call. ZINGADINGDING!

Then I thought the blogging problem was because I was no longer thinking. I am not living with just my thoughts anymore, but I am talking to Baby Mama all day and have no (air quote) blog thoughts (air quote) that would over take my world. I spend my day talking to Baby Mama about TV and mullets and squirrels and dreams instead of creating a little blog world with them. Tim used to say "A card laid is a card played." So by that we logically deduce that he would say: "A thought spoken is a blog that doesn't happen."

This is a theory, and is not meant to change the world. But I think I've stumbled onto something.

Then I thought maybe I can't blog because we're waiting around here for something BIG to happen. Like a live birthing. Everything else seems small in comparison. Maybe it's because I'm so excited I run across the room every time Baby Mama says owie. Or my back hurts. Maybe I am distracted by the rotund. I never knew that about myself. I have ADDWAEOTR. Pronounced Add-way-o-ter. Attention Deficit Disorder With an Emphasis on the Rotund.

Off the subject sidebar: How do women stretch like that???

Anyway, I am trying to save myself from my writers block. I want to blog about the Baby Mama naming her son Maverick, but I just can't get it going. I want to blog about the top ten reasons why I should be in the delivery room, but I have already been invited, so I don't need to pressure anyone with ridiculous reasons. I want to blog about the Mitchmeister, whose birthday is today, and tout how proud I am of that little cowboy. I could have put one of his baby pictures on the blog, you know, one of those where he's only wearing cowboy boots and a holster and nothing else, and I could have put a black strip over his nethers (or his eyes, you pick...but don't bother telling me because it would gross me out too much) and You all would have said Oh, remember when Mitch was running around the neighborhood in his nethers making his Mumzie's blood pressure press in her jugular vein a little to strong? Remember that? That would have been a blog that would have pleased and touched and you all would have had to reach for the Kleenix. And then you all would have had to sit back and remind yourselves to just breathe.

Why oh why can't I just be about the blogging?

Help me O Be One Kanobi. You're my only hope.

Happy Birthday Lil' Tim. You have always been a crowd pleaser. And everybody is thinkin' about that today.

I Should be in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. You Know I Should.

Today, while the Baby Mama and I were watching this young man on General Conference,

I disclosed a deep dark secret to her. I have always wanted to be in the Mo Tab.

Always.

Only I can't really sing like those ladies (you can tell they can all sing well....they sing with their eyes closed or their eyes buggin out and their mouths really open wide.)

I have emotional baggage about singing with my mouth open really wide, because in fourth grade I was standing in front of the class with a group of other kids, singing for the rest of the class, and we were singing that "Gloria" Christmas song, and I was really getting into it and I had my mouth open as wide as it would go, just Gloria-ing my little 9 year old heart out (probably with my eyes closed) (probably bobbing somewhat in place.) and I noticed that there were some boys who were pointing and laughing and I think to myself: who are they laughing at and after a reality check or two I realized it was me. I instantly knew that I would now be known as

a. Tonsil Girl

b. That weirdo Gloria singer.

I spent recess in the bathroom. And I was miles away from puberty when this tragedy happened, so we can't blame it on that. My fragile little singer psyche was bruised. I didn't try out for choir in high school until it was too late. I walked into tryouts and suddenly became aware that all the other kids were singing operatic vibrato. How did I miss learning how to do that?

Anyway.

Here are the reasons why I would fit in with and should be in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Totally discounting singing ability and taking into account desire. In no particular order:

Reason #1

I think that I would really enjoy all the trips

I've never been to Rushmore. Or Russia. Or China. Or the Olympics. Or the Inauguration of a President of the United States.

Reason #2

I could really be valuable in keeping their fashion sense afloat. In fact, this could be my special job. My speciality if you will. I might put the ladies in suits. From Chicos. JUST KIDDING. Not about the suits part. I really think this would be a good job for me because there's nowhere to go but up. There's only improvements to be had.

Not that this example has anything to do with the Mo Tabs, (it just demonstrates my skilz) but today, during the afternoon session of conference, they had a children's choir, and the little girls were all in pastels. I wouldn't do that. And some of the little girls had satin dresses on. I wouldn't do that. Not good on every body type. I think I would go for crisp and not flow-ie. I think I would go for less not more. (less fabric bunched up in a little sequined gather thingy at the hip) I think I would consult Christian Dior. Or Channel. Or whoever is designing Sarah Palin's beautiful beautiful suits.

I mean why not? Those CD sales are up. Spend some, make some. In fact, now that I'm on this roll, I'm thinking an outfit for the Mo Tab Ladies would be an EXCELLENT challenge on Bravo's Project Runway.

Wouldn't that be AMAZING??? Mo Tab singers stomping down the runway to Mo Tab Music in front of Heidi Klum? So if elected, you now know what I'd do. So pick me. Love me. Then I'd not only be in that awesome choir, but I'd get a rocking suit.

Reason #3:

Once we got the outfits under control, we could make them in lots of different colors. Colors that I might look good in. Because if I look good in red,

or Blue,

then you know that the rest of the choir is going to look good too, because we all pretty much have the same coloring. Check it out. It's true and you know it.

Reason #4

I have the essential over 50 afro hair do. (see above) Again. Perfect fit. Can't deny.

Reason #5

I would have the opportunity to feel wonderful things.

How or why would you deny me feeling wonderful things, after all I've been through having two broken legs (OK, feet but I get extra points because there were two) at my son's wedding?

Reason #6

I could go around saying things like, "Oh, I'm unavailable on Thursday because I have to go practice with this choir I'm in, maybe you've heard of them, they're the world famous Mormon Tabernacle Choir and I'm in it now because I am an amazing singer finally."

Reason #7

If I happened to be so utterly fortunate to realize my fondest dream and be in the choir, you could hunt for Mommacita whenever you see the choir on the BYU Channel. It would be extra fun for you. And your entire family. You all would feel like you know a celebrity (me) when you say to your preschooler or the person you live with: Hey, there's that lady we know who writes a blog sometimes except when her daughter comes to live with her then she becomes a total slacker.

Reason #8

I would really really really think yea on me.

PS. If you are from my ward, and you are involved in the ward choir (and your name might possibly be Wettlauf.... and this blog makes you think: Hey we need to be getting that Mommacita coming to ward choir; then you need to get one of those reality checks performed on yourself by a health professional because I'm not such a great singer. Insurance will probably not cover that reality check. At least mine never has. Anyway, no ward choir wants me. I just like the Mo Tabbers. And I long to be with them. So back away.