Quit growing.  I know we all complain about it and every time someone’s kid has a birthday, we hear the same thing muttered, “how in the hell (well, maybe these are me and my friends) did another year pass?”  Seriously. Someone needs to figure out how to slow down time, just for a few years – right until puberty would be nice.  Really just until that first pube sprouts.

I have spent the past few weeks getting into friendly “arguments” with my husband because I want one more.  “Just one more.”  He says I am acting like it is a chip.  “Go ahead and eat the whole damn bag of chips….have all the chips you want but kids, no more.”

His famous line has been, and keep in mind it is said with a shit eating grin from ear to ear – “Sure, go ahead and have a fourth baby…..with your third husband because I am out.”  Ouch.  Yikes.  That is like a double burn but I have to give him credit.  He can come up with some good zingers.  The funny thing is that before I would agree to the vasectomy, I made sure he put a “sample” on ice so if I could ever change his mind, I had the nectar needed to grow one sassy little kid who wears a cross around his neck and thinks that Nonie and Papa live in the Green Bay Packers.  They don’t just live in Green Bay.  They live IN the Green Bay Packers.  How cool is that?l?

Fast as lightening my husband called the sperm bank where the goods are held to make sure that I could not get my mitts on it.  He is the only one who can get it released.  He is scared he is going to come home and find me in one of my fancy yoga poses with a turkey baster up my nether regions.  I mean, geez.  I would lock the door so he wouldn’t have to see anything.  I do have some tact.  Not much, but some.

3 has always been my lucky number and I was good with it until today.  My giant baby really is no longer a baby.  He is just giant.  Today he did this:

All by himself, mohawk and chucks double tied to his feet, took off down the sidewalk on his sister’s pink scooter.  For the record, this did not cause a problem – none at all.  That was her pink scooter and only girls like pink so he has to stop asap.  Like now, he has to stop.  He didn’t stop.  He laughed.  I laughed.  His sister cried.

And now he is dying to get potty trained.  He sits on the shitter.  Plays with shitter.  Has me take his diaper off 46 times a day so he can pretend shitter.  “Poo poo” is his war cry these days.  For the record he has yet to actually shit on the shitter but he is getting damn close.  Is there a chance that I could actually miss changing those diapers?  Cleaning poop off of nuts? (and I am not talking acorns, almonds or macadamias)

To make matters worse, the other night he was “practicing” in a canadian tuxedo that he picked out.  It was so awesome on so many levels but made me realize the shit is getting real.  He is getting big.  Giant.  My giant baby really is now a giant toddler.

Keep in mind he lugged the second hand shitter that we got from our awesome neighbors…..from the restroom to our living room.  He got bored in there alone.  Our neighbors are going through a massive remodel and I stopped by and this shitter was on their front porch. After I stopped laughing, I asked Mr. Patrick where that toilet was going.  He informed me his son had used it out there, right on the front porch but it was on it’s way to the dumpster.  Not so fast.  It is on it’s way to my house.  Where it sits in my living room.

So, apparently I will not be getting my way and as De La Soul (WAY back in the day) said -“three is the magic number.”  (Do you remember that jam?  so fun)

I guess I am 40 and not 30 so maybe it is better this way.  It’s just that I love my pals so damn much, that I think having even more would be better!  If three is good, 4 is better.  RIght?  How the hell do you think I am from a family of 7.  The albino gyno (my dad) never wanted the fun to end.

I know I am nuts….but I love to love.  I love to craft, read, color and cook and screw with people, so I feel like I have room for one more degenerate here in the “Gerbie Gang”.

Thank God my sister just had a new baby.  The cutest little guy you ever saw.  He might be easy to steal.  Wish me luck.  As I always say – if you ever hear a report of a giant orange lady with big boobs robbing a bank or committing a crime doused in accessories,  think Snooki…..not me”