I’m over here guest posting and Mommy Blogging because I clearly cannot do that at home on my blog. On my blog I talk about hot guys and vampires and all my fun blogging pals. Over here, I can wax poetic about my child without fear of being tagged a Mommy Blogger. Also, I’m posting because Motley is sleeping. These days, her life consists of a lot of sleep.

Oddly, enough, her life consisted of a lot of sleep even in the beginning. She didn’t move much in the womb, but she made me fucking sicker than shit the whole 8 months I was pregnant! GAH! It was a never ending barf fest, I kid you not. Truth of the matter is, I was pretty sick. Sick enough that they stuck me in the hospital and tried to feed me. I was like, helloooooo, I am a barfing machine! Take the sandwich and back away from my bed or I will hit you with projectile vomit!

The nurses kept trying to feed me. They took a lot of my blood too. I’m not sure how that was supposed to help me. It just made me weaker. Then some bastard of a male nurse blew out the vein in my left arm and now it’s not usable anymore when it comes time to stick a needle into it. I know. They tried for fucking 15 minutes when they had to knock me out for an abortion 8 years later. All I ended up with was a bunch of bandaids all over my arm and a bouquet of purple bruises.

During that month in the hospital, they gave me an ultrasound and amniocentesis weekly, trying to determine if Motley’s lungs were developed enough to induce labor, something they wanted to happen before I croaked off from being pregnant and sick. Those of you who have met Motley know… they waited long enough. The kid has some seriously developed lungs. NO… not her BOOBS! Her LUNGS. She can YELL LOUDLY. Sheesh. Minds out of the gutter… or out of her Fredericks enhanced cleavage.

About a month before my due date, they finally told me it was time to induce labor. OMG I was crying tears of happiness. The first thing I asked the nurse was, after she pops out, if I eat something, will I feel like puking it all up? She said no. I cried harder. Tears of undiluted joy. Eight months of puking had made me really hungry!

I don’t wanna discuss labor. I screamed a lot. It made me feel better and took away some of the pain. The IV hurt like fucking hell in my hand. I don’t think they had it in right because later it was dripping some serious blood. I mean, the vampires were congregating in the hall outside my door even. The part I really remember was about ripping the nurse’s head off when she tried to turn off my metal videos. Yes, Motley arrived in the middle of an Aerosmith video during MTV’s Hard 60 or whatever they called their 60 minutes of metal music at noon. It was Aerosmith with Run DMC doing Walk This Way. So I was staring at Steven Tyler’s wide open mouth while pushing Motley out. Somehow it all just seems appropriate.

Still, she popped out a month early during the video, showed her disdain for the chi chi, and took to a bottle, ignoring us all. My friends thought she was the coolest thing ever. Too bad they were never around at diaper changing time.

From the very beginning, the child had a evil love of all things fart related. She would fart and laugh up a storm. Nothing has changed from her diaper days on this front. She still loves the Log Song because she equates logs to poop. Okay, maybe that is just a little amusing.

Anyway, Motley was a good baby and a good kid. If you want to read the story of her disdain for the penis you can go to Bluepaintred’s archives. That was my guest posting story. There are a lot of stories I could tell you about Motley. Some are proud Mom stories. Some are frustrated Mom stories. Some are “When can I stake her on an ant hill?” Mom stories. But the one story you have to totally hear is the one where the 17 year old big breasted Motley asked to wear my concert shirts from the 80’s.

First of all, she was mightily impressed with the fact that I still had shirts from the 80’s and that they were in excellent condition. Of course, the shirts she was looking at were all shirts that I can no longer wear, and weren’t in the least interesting to Rott. Rott had gotten all the shirts he found interesting (ie Y&T and a few others) off of me before Motley had an interest in 80’s rock. All except one shirt… my Somewhere In Time shirt.

Oh, Rott wanted that shirt, but alas, his male shoulders would not fit in my tiny little Iron Maiden shirt from 1987. So, of course, this is the shirt Motley wanted most. At 17, she was a D cup (I’m a C now and was B when I bought the shirt) and weighed about 130 pounds so the Maiden shirt fit her fine, if a little tight in the boob area. At 18, she’d gotten taller, and heavier, and the D cup became a DD. She began to stretch Eddie out of shape, so I complained that she was ruining Eddie. She chose to ignore me, saying that it wasn’t like I was gonna be able to wear it ever again.

The truth threw me for a loop for a short time. Then I told her that it didn’t matter. MY shirt. Give it back. All this time Rott had been giving her the evil eye every time she wore the shirt. He so coveted it! Now, the kicker to me is that NONE OF US, fits in the 1987 Iron Maiden Somewhere In Time tour shirt that I got at Spartan Stadium in San Jose, California. It’s been washed and put back in the plastic box with the other mementos of my former thin, young, and fun life. And that, as they say, is that. Eddie is retired because none of us can wear him.

I love it that my kid loves all the music I used to love. However, I didn’t really like it that she was taking all my cool shirts and wearing them when I couldn’t. It reminded me too much of me getting old. I mean, that 20-something who wore all those shirts (and slept with all those hot guys) is still there inside me! It’s not fair if Motley wears the shirts and assumes my previous life, now is it? (Minus the sleeping with all the hot guys. Bad move. Really bad move.)

Anyway, I’ve got Eddie back now. I wonder what it will take to get my Seven and the Ragged Tiger baseball shirt back?