What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas

I had a stupid dream the other night:

Robb and I were in Las Vegas, and I couldn't get a hold of him, as we were in different parts of the casino, and I didn't have my cell phone. I REALLY wanted to call him, to tell him that I was headed over to the hospital in the casino, as I was having stomach cramps, and I had to have a baby. I wasn't pregnant or anything, but, whatever. All of the nurses in the Mandalay Bay Hospital were wearing exactly the kind of outfits that you'd expect in a casino hospital - trashy and flashy. I believe there might have been white sequins involved. I may have glimpsed a tray of martinis.
I was lying on the hospital bed, and the friendly, bubbly nurses were buzzing all around me in white miniskirts, I think they were performing my c-section. Suddenly, I felt something wet on my hand, and looked down to see the bed covered in crap. It looked like I had had a full on, Code Brown diaper blowout, except that I wasn't wearing a diaper. I was so disgusted and embarassed, and kept apologizing to the nurses, who were cleaning it up with their BARE HANDS, as I was lying there. I couldn't move, as I think I'd had a spinal tap.
One of the nurses was pushing the poop into a pile, and said, "Wow, there is a LOT of it!" and I replied, " Yes, I guess that's why I had stomach cramps this morning!"

Haha! Gross! There was more, but I can't remember it anymore...

My girls have been trying to outpoop each other for the past week, in some type of strange and very competitive Fecal Competition. They're each having 2-3 monster poops A DAY. In case you haven't calculated that, 3x3=9. NINE. Not counting the dog. They are somehow outputting more than they are intaking, yet still growing like weeds. The poop is starting to invade my dreams. Some people dream of winning big in Vegas - I dream of shitting the bed in Vegas. Help me.

But the good part. Sigh.... the bebes. They are so dreamy and delicious, it's not even FAIR. I mean, I have 3 smart, healthy, hilarious girls, including an almost three year old daughter, who sits at the table and asks for "More broccoli please, Mama", and plays lovingly and coos, "Awwwww, you are sooooo cute!!!" at her baby sisters. Did I create World Peace in another lifetime? Ruby and Lily are standing and trying to cruise now. They grin and giggle and feed themselves, and play peekaboo like nobody's business, and eat and sleep in a fairly easy to deal with manner. They all love me like crazy... they can't get enough of me, can't get close enough. Holy LORD, this part is sweet. I think that, starting in another couple of years, and forever after, I will always love them more than they love me, so I'm EATING UP this little window of time where the worshipping is mutual. Whenever the days are long, and I'm exhausted and impatient, and I've just been bitten in the nipple, I always remind myself of this, and it keeps things in perspective.


ps- I am still waiting to get Vegas pics on the computer to share, and some new monkey pictures. Soon, soon.

pps- POOP!


EDITED TO ADD***

Here are some photos from our anniversary 3 day weekend in Vegas. I didn't have any yet, because the people at the little wedding chapel gave us a ROLL OF FILM, and a VHS TAPE. They may as well have had a caveman scratch our pictures onto a rock - who has a VHS player anymore? Anyways- thank you, Chelsey, for emailing me your funny pictures!
The whole evening was bizarre and cheesy and sweet and hilarious, and I'm so glad Chris and Chelsey could be there with us to share it all. A limo picked us up at our hotel to take us to the wedding chapel, and it was the saddest, most run down limo I've ever seen. Chelsey said on the way there, "I feel like we're going to prom." But as the "limo" drove us further from the Strip, and into a neighbourhood that looked more and more like a Third World Country, we began to fear that we were being taken to an abandoned warehouse with "WEDING CHAPLE" spray painted on the front door, where an old strung out Elvis impersonator would mug us. But it ended up being a very fun evening. We all went to a fantastic restaurant afterwards, then to see some amazing burlesque dancers, then gambled and laughed until the wee hours. The entire trip was great.


Elvis walked me down the aisle, wearing about 8 lbs of makeup, and singing "Love Me Tender".
When I look now at the dress I wore, I'm thinking, Eeww. Too short, too low. But it was Vegas, and seemed appropriate.


It was so weird. We couldn't stop laughing. I was frightened of Elvis here- his teeth were so white, they were almost blue.


Seriously, are we in the Twilight Zone? Elvis kept saying, ...in front of family and friends.." and we kept looking at all of the empty chairs in front of us, through the giant plastic Elvis shades they made us wear. It was funny.


Elvis pronounced us "still man and wife" by absolutely no authority whatsoever.


Team Fun. We love Chris and Chelsey.

Snap, Gamble, POP!

Our trip was wonderful, we had about 5 years worth of fun. And despite the fact that we were in probably the least romantic city in the country, with all of the garish lights, greed, and prostitution, it was romantic. Five years of marriage has brought Robb and I much closer together, and I never have more fun than when the two of us are giggling like idiots together, stretching a joke out to ridiculous lengths. He can make any city romantic for me.

The only downer of the trip was the searing pain in my side. Last week, I was putting a sleeping Ruby into her crib, and since the crib rail is quite high, I am quite short, and Ruby is quite heavy, (over 20 lbs awake, and roughly 327 lbs when asleep,) I basically have to hang over the edge by my waist. As I was doing this, I heard a very loud "POP!" I thought, "Oh my GOD, I broke something! What pops like that? Did my spleen explode? The only time I've ever broken a bone is about 8 years ago, while snowfalling. Snowfalling is just like snowboarding, but you do it laying down, and it's not fun at all. Anyway, it felt like my rib had broken, but I thought that was impossible. It only hurt as much as the wrist accident, and if I had a broken rib, wouldn't I be waking up in a hospital or something?"

But after consulting the World Wide Information Superhighway Internet Web Computer Machine, I found that a broken rib was actually quite common, and a big pain in the ass, and you can't really do anything about it, unless it's sticking out of your skin, and it usually takes about 2 months to heal. Fantastic. It's OK though, because it doesn't even hurt unless I lay down, sit, stand up, twist, pick up the babies, feed the babies, cough, laugh, or breathe. So, I'm good.

So, during my trip to Vegas, I was forced to manage my pain with a healthy combination of Motrin, vodka, Red Bull, and white wine. And gambling. And steak, seafood, and shopping. And the more I bought, the better I felt. But now that I am sober and carrying three kids around all day again, DAMN! My rib HURTS! OW! If you are planning to break your rib, I highly recommend that you do it while you are drunk and single. Otherwise, it sucks.

Also, if you are still breastfeeding, and are away from your twins for 4 days, and return to find them clinging to your breasts like starving milk vampires for 24 hours, breaking only to poop, I do NOT recommend getting BLISTERS on your nipples. It might SOUND like a good idea, but it burns like hellfire every time the babies ( now with TEETH!) latch on.

What I DO recommend, is having your toddler crawl into bed with you, late at night, after you've returned from a vacation, take your face in her little hands, and say, "Mamma, Mamma, you come HOME. I SOOOO happy to see you! A beeeeeeeeeeeeeg hug!", as she snuggles into you, and sighs herself to sleep. Yep, if you get a chance, DO that.

(photos coming soon..)

A joke from Piper:

PIPER: Knock knock!
ME: Who's there?
PIPER: (sticks both fingers up nostrils) PICK PICK PICK!!!!!
ME: Eeewwwww, gross.
PIPER: (laughs hysterically)

I think I will try this joke the next time Robb and I meet with our banker.

Luck, be a Lady

Tommorrow, Robb and I are off to Las Vegas for a few days with our friends, Chelsey and Chris. This trip was a surprise Anniversary gift from Robb this year- Elvis is going to help us renew our vows, and Chelsey & Chris will witness our silliness. As newlyweds themselves, with their beautiful, fabulous wedding still fresh in their minds, OUR contrasting cheese filled Vegas wedding may be quite a shock. I will be Jailhouse Rocking down the aisle in a giant showgirl feathered headdress, throwing handfuls of cash and glitter, as Robb stands at the altar, all shook up, but loving me tender. Because we are very sophisticated. That's just how we roll.

It may not be classy, but it will be hella fun. Now, everybody line up to catch my gold plastic bouquet!

Wish us luck, we'll see you next week!

*****************************************

A joke from Piper:

PIPER: Knock knock!
ME: Who's there!
PIPER: Wonderpets WHO??!!!
ME: Uh... Wonderpets who...who?
PIPER: HAHAHAHAHA! Wonderpets!!!!

The Miracle Worker

I've always had a bit of a problem with being told what to do. I know that most people don't like to be bossed around, but I think I take it to the extreme sometimes. If a can of soup says, "DO NOT ADD WATER", my knee jerk reaction is "Screw you! I can add water, or milk, or GIN if I want to, so don't instruct ME in bold caps like that!!" Stupid, I know.
My parents mostly let me run my own life when I was growing up, so it's always difficult for me to let someone else have a say in my decisions. You know, like you're supposed to do when you're married? Poor Robb, he knows by now that he has to tread lightly when giving me advice and opinions, because even if he's right, it takes a while for me to absorb it. It has to sink through my idiotic shell of stubborn, unreasonable self rightous resistance first.

Honey, if it's any consolation, I am getting it back tenfold from our oldest daughter. Yesterday, I wanted her to get dressed, and she thought that that was the worst idea in the history of stupid ideas to ever inflict on a child. After a few minutes, it turned into the table manners scene from Helen Keller. Almost EXACTLY. At one point, I thought she may be having a seizure while I was forcing her to put her shirt on. It was UGLY.

It was similar to you trying to get me to apologize for freaking out about the vitamin incident yesterday.
I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm working on it...


More home videos...

Feeding the Herd