Ambergontrail – Trying to get through life without dying of dysentery

So, a search term that brought people to my blog:

“My gigantic bra”

That’s all I need to say, isn’t it?

I think:

• I wonder if I smile in my sleep, too?
• She definitely has my chin.
• … and the rest of her is Paul
• I wonder if my brother is sad he’s missing this?
• She’s the cutest baby in the entire world.
• Are her cheeks really bigger than other babies?
• I wonder if her height will catch up to her weight.
• I can’t believe I’m HER mother.
• How did this beautiful thing come out of ME?
• Please don’t wake up yet.
• I wonder if she can giggle again, or if that was a cough.
• She grows so fast, soon she’ll be out of these clothes, too.
• It’s sad that I even love her pooping noise.
• Please wake up soon, my right boob is bursting.
• I honestly can’t believe this perfect baby is mine. Ours.
• I wonder when I’m supposed to remove her newborn head supporter.
• How lucky am I to be able to bring her to work with me?
• I really hope the red marks on her face will fade with time, I’d hate for meaner kids to make fun of her.
• I wonder if my grandma can see us now.
• If Grandma can, I wonder if Paul’s dad can. Hello, Pete, are you proud?
• I want another one.
• I think she’ll be beautiful when she gets older.
• We’re going to need a shotgun.

I’ve been a Bee since November of ’06. I blogged for the entire year leading up to my wedding (this was before you had to start blogging a certain amount of months before your wedding), and loved it. I loved our generation of bees: flowers, fruit and veggies. I also loved my fellow bees, and it seems that because we’ve all been dropped into a sort of “fame” we can relate to each other better than most people who have (in some cases) never met in person.

Then again, as with many groups of women, there is cattiness and snark behind the scenes in a few cases. I think this is normal. Honestly, I know for a fact people have talked about me. Does it bother me? In some instances, yes, because why wouldn’t it? In other cases, no, since it’s incredibly hard to know the real someone by just blog posts and message board messages. Do I love the bees any less? God no. Am I thrilled and honored to be a Bee? You bet your sweet ass.

I’m so excited that doing something I loved (blogging) got me connected to a group of women who continuously evolve, and grow. Look at me, for instance: I got married and had a baby. Are there other bees in the same spot? Yes! How lucky am I to have a built in group of friends who may (or may not) be in exactly the same period in their lives?

There is  a huge bee meetup in Las Vegas in a month. I . AM. SO. JEALOUS. I’m still trying to convince Paul to drive out there for a night, JUST so I can see Corn and Dumpling (other Bee mommies so we can get our munchkins together (are there any other mommies going along?), as well as Snow Pea, my non-related cousin who I have talked to for years now.

So, while some of my fellow bees may have been offended by the mention of Bees talking smack behind your back (sorry, it rhymed), I think it’s inevitable that a group of women THAT LARGE would avoid any smack. I’ve felt the brunt of it, and I’m not any more bitter than I would have been normally. I love them like sisters, since I know that if I had a sister, I’d smack talk her constantly. Sadly, I was blessed with just a brother, and all my smack is futile.

Being a bee is like having a built in posse of gals waiting to kick ass for you, and comment on your blog if no one else does. When I was in the hospital having Piper, I felt nothing but support, and the rooting on was inspiring (that means you, Corn, I really enjoyed reading your comments).