October 08, 2010


Don't you want this shiny swan front dress? Me too.

I also want a fountain of different kinds of rootbeer in my home, for personal use. Even a tap, like, next to the faucet would do.

Today Matt dressed the baby like the Hamburglar. Sans mask. Not on purpose, but not not on purpose. Garage sale outfit/old timey jailbird wear by Baby Gap. The other day Matt dressed William in head to toe baby blue stuff as a joke, to annoy me. He looked like the worlds tiniest orderly. Matt chastised me for putting him in a shirt with a bike on it and shorts overalls with a truck on it. He told me I was confusing the issue. I was thinking "transportation" as a theme, not a debate.

Until I was in the middle grades, I thought it was "Handburger" not "hamburger". I thought about this tonight as I made us turkey burgers or "Handturkers" as I will now call them.

We went to a reunion class of sorts for our summer birthing class. We told the story of our birth to the current class of still preggos. We tried to keep it chillwave, downplay some details. Like my almost 60 hour labor and William spending his first week in intensive care. The story balanced the other three birth stories that got told, which were all easy 6 hour births. My favorite was the couple who accidentally had a home birth. The mom told her husband to look and check because she felt the baby coming and he checked and saw nothing and then after the next contraction she demanded he check again and her water broke and literally exploded on his face. He said it was like getting punched in the mouth, the force and shock of it. The next contraction, the baby SHOT OUT and he caught it. My other favorite part of their story is when an entire fireman company shows up in their apartment to respond to the post-birth 911 call for paramedics and she is totally naked holding the baby still and she tells her husband to get her some clothes to wear to go to the hospital and he brings her some hightops and a terricloth bathing suit cover up. I feel like that is such a total panicking-husband-in-a-funny-story thing to do. You ask for clothes and he brings you some Dunks and a fucking mini-dress made from a towel.

Posted by jessica hopper at October 8, 2010 01:50 AM | TrackBack