I got a box full of your toys

Morley clan - Nick + Stephen showing off new throw pillows.

My family was here for a visit over the weekend, and because I'm so good at planning activities everyone will enjoy, we went stroller shopping. Last week I met Heidi Klum's twin. Probably not Heidi's actual twin, but she could make a big load of money claiming to be her sibling and selling all sorts of scandalous tales to tabloids. She even had the german accent. Anyway, she was pushing the stroller I was considering, and I asked her how she likes it. While she replied "I loooooooooove it, it turns on a dime," I thought to myself, "If I have this stroller I will look like this woman and my children will be little Klum children and someday I will host Project Runway. I must have this stroller." So while test pushing the various strolling options at the baby boutique, I found myself saying "Look! It turns on a dime!" I bet the stroller company hires beautiful women to push beautiful children in awesome strollers around Boulder. And if so, well done stroller company. It totally works.

We also met this guy:





but you

"No more blogging about poop!"
-My parents

said the joker to the thief

There are many benefits to working at home. There is also, however a downside. Every so often I catch a touch of cabin fever and it becomes imperative to get out of the apartment. Where do I go? I go to Target. I mean, I live in Longmont. There aren't a ton of destinations, and our Super Target never fails to live up to its name. My only complaint is that sometimes the front half of the store smells faintly of poop. It's not unbearable, but it does evoke a rather unpleasant memory. Years ago I worked as a bagger at Harmon's grocer. Part of my duties included the occasional janitorial work, i.e. taking out the trash and tidying the bathrooms. For a long time it was never anything worse than cleaning up an ice cream spill on aisle 19. But then one day, while I was enjoying my diet coke in the break room, our manager crackled over the intercom, "Meg, there's been an accident in the Men's restroom that we need you to clean up." I knew that could only mean one thing and that something terribly ugly awaited in a bathroom stall. I didn't move for five minutes. I considered quitting. Then I considered faking my own death. Then I decided to just get it over with. Because I love you, I'll spare you the details. I will say that to this day I have no idea how it could have been physically possible to make a mess like that. Disguisting doesn't even begin to describe it. And I cleaned it all. I didn't quit. I didn't improvise a cardiac arrest.  I dare say I'm a stronger person for it today. Not that I don't pity whoever has to clean the Target restroom.

gloria

They said it couldn't be done. That I, a female speciman who never made it more than half-way through her lego kits or origami books, could never assemble a full changing table by herself.

Well, WHAT NOW HATERS?!(not sure what punctuation is appropriate here).

Take a look at this fine craftsmanship:

One hour of Wait Wait Don't Tell Me and five pages of instruction, and BLAMO! I made furniture.

Meg: 1,000,000 points

Doubters: 0 points

In all fairness, Stephen was both willing and able to put this together, but I knew in my heart of hearts it was something that I needed to do. In the words of Roz from Frasier, "I love a challenge."

i'm a lot like you

Stephen: "You have flour on your shirt"

Me: "Where?"

Stephen: "The bottom of your shirt" (watches me search)...

Stephen: "You can't see the bottom of your shirt, can you?"

Me: "No."

No, I can't. I can't see anything beyond the mound that is my torso. That makes 7/8 of my body vulnerable to kick-me signs, and while I'd like to believe that no one would kick a pregnant woman, I've been wrong before. I'm scared.

Also, sometimes Ollie dresses like an ewok:

I got a brand new pair of roller skates

I feel like I'm letting down the youth of America/my generation by not occupying Wall Street, or any other street, so we had some friends over and held our own OCCUPY LONGMONT. And by occupy Longmont, I mean we occupied our condo in Longmont.

Gregg, Rachael, Stephen, Ollie, Jon, Growlbert and Allyson are sick and tired of the greed.

Our protest included some seriously rebellious activities like playing with puppies and eating ice cream. We really stuck it to the corporations by paying for parking and dining at no less than four resturaunts. That'll show em.

The weekend included what I assume are some actual similarities to the Occupy movement, like a high person to bathroom ratio. Maybe the similarities end there. I don't know much about what is really going on at these protests.





where'd you park the car?

I've really resisted the urge to make an Alien pregnancy comparison, but a girl can only hold out for so long. You knew it was coming.
Pregancy is three parts wondrous/awe-inspiring/miraculous, and one part science fiction.
Sometimes I'm legitimately startled to see my abdomen bouncing up and down or feel a tiny arm in my ribs. I half expect to be sitting at dinner with all my astronaut friends in our spaceship when suddenly baby will punch her way through my stomache and make a surprise appearance. Sigourney Weaver will be alarmed.
It doesn't help that as a child I believed babies came out through the belly button. And really, the truth isn't any less weird.

The good news is that not matter what Ivy looks like, she's bound to be cuter than this:

AMIRITE?