Post 1

Yea, so I couldn't come up with a more creative title for my first post. And what? And no, I wasn't born in '92. I'm not telling you when I was born, either. You'll survive. I'm sure not everything that I write will make you double over in laughter but my life is pretty crazy and my ramblings can be pretty random. Besides, living away from home, your family always wants updates. Isn't it much easier when you don't have to talk on the phone. I hate loathe talking on the phone... Passionately. I'm not really awesome at keeping up with these things but I'll put forth some kind of effort. Allow me this moment to remind you, I said "some kind of effort." That means if I think about updating, I've fulfilled my promise. Don't forget that part. I have an excuse and I'm milking it for all it's worth... Placenta Brain. The best thing that's happened in pregnancy since Adam and Eve. Don't believe me? Ask anyone who is knocked up. It's almost like amnesia only better because you can "remember" some things and conveniently "forget" others and no one will know when you've genuinely forgotten something from when you're milking the symptom.

Pushing forward with the blogging adventure
Allow me to take a moment to say I am extremely opinionated. I will only voice my opinions in what can be described as "offensive" manner when I feel passionately about something. Today will be one of those days. See, I have this issue that's been bothering me for about a week now. Okay, it's been more like 2 years but it's only really begun to irritate me to the point of wanting an outlet for about a week. That issue comes in the form of the Pez Dispenser Momma. We'll call her a PDM. A PDM is a woman who refuses to attend college or get a job (seriously, even McDonalds would help), can't afford life, chooses to suck up the measly paycheck her husband makes by eating out and shopping on a daily basis, might be on some form of Welfare, wants to throw her kids into some form of state/gov't funded daycare (despite not having a job or attending college) and yet pops out babies like she's a Pez Dispenser and kids are her candy. I don't feel like any hardworking American citizen should pay their tax dollars for her food stamps when she goes out to eat 2-3 times a day (on credit card), just adding to the 20+ thousand dollars of debt she's already racked up, especially considering tax dollars pay Planned Parenthood to provide free and severely discounted birth control. If you're feeling slightly offended right now, it's probably because you or someone you love is a PDM. Please find the nearest clinic, grab yourself (or your loved one) some free condoms or pills and stop procreating. If you find yourself wondering if I'm talking to you, please see above criteria. Do you fit it? Before you get your panties in a knot, not every pregnant woman on some form of welfare qualifies as a PDM just like not every stay home mom (SHM) qualifies as a PDM. Before you become irrationally upset with my rant, consider the struggles that so many women face trying to conceive or maintain a pregnancy. It doesn't come easy to everyone. Popping out babies like Orville Redenbacher pops out fluffy, white kernels of deliciousness only to squander the $2500/month your husband brings home on McDonalds, Taco Bell and new clothes while your children sit in their gov't funded daycare program because you don't want to be bothered by them while you munch on your nachos and shop for a new pair of maternity pants because you threw all the others away after your last pregnancy since they'd be "out of style" by the next year when you got pregnant again is kind of extremely offensive. Now before you go out and buy yourself a triple chocolate ice cream cone because you're craving it and I made you cry, think about how blessed you are to have been able to get pregnant and maintain a pregnancy without medical intervention. Life doesn't go that way for everyone. Now go love on your kids. Some women would do just about anything to have the opportunity to sit down and read their baby a bedtime story or teach him/her to bake cookies. Don't waste yours.