This week three people asked me why I was breathing so hard over the phone. I had three options to tell them a. I’m practicing for a job as a 1-900- PERVERT phone girl. b. I’m pregnant again c. The Truth: I’m massively out of shape. I can’t actually walk up the steps and talk on the phone or people become concerned that I can’t breath!?! I can tell you now I was no Heidi Klum when I was pregnant…I took the ‘eat what
I the baby craves and sleep when you can’ approach. Tonight the boys have left to watch a race, so I allowed Carlee to sleep a little longer this evening. I completed a 15 minute walk tape and painted my toe nails. I’ll curse those toe nails during Carlee’s 12, 1, 2, 3, 4 am wake up calls. I followed up with some high fiber-Vitamin Cookies after my exercise, and they tasted like crap, so I followed that up with an ice cream sandwich. I am sooo weak!
I almost painted Carlee’s toes, but I was scared I would have polish all over her little feet. Carlee is so cute and sweet, she reminds me of the little baby dolls I played with as a girl; with the exception the Betsy Wetsy part can’t be turned off and she requires insurance. I admit I once loved to run around my neighborhood and climb trees, but I really enjoyed my baby doll time too! I would spend hours and hours dressing, rocking, and talking to my dolls. I was just telling a funny story to some visiting family members the other day that the one doll I really, really, really wanted as a child was the Cabbage Patch Doll. The Cabbage Patch Doll was a huge HOT item in the 80s. Of course, they were also pricey. I didn’t get one as soon as I wanted, I had to wait for a special occasion. It seemed as if every single one of my girl friends at school had one. I would gaze longingly at the store looking for a doll like me. I never really could find one, but that didn’t stop me from wanting a Cabbage Patch Doll.
Finally the day came, when for my birthday, my sweet granny brought me THE ONE, THE ONLY, MY OWN Cabbage Patch Doll!!! I was so freaking excited. I pulled her right out of the box. She had brown hair, brown eyes, and a yellow dress. She even came with a birth certificate. Granny said she looked everywhere to find a doll that looked like me. She did look like me and I loved her so much. I named her Stephanie. One day I even got to take Stephanie to school. If my memory serves me all the girls brought their dolls. It was then the girls asked me why I owned a black doll. A black doll!! What!?! She isn’t a black doll she is tan like me I told them. (Needless to say my school in first grade was not rich in diversity.) The girls tried to make fun of my different colored doll but I would not let them. I did what any self respecting first grader would do…I told the teacher. She of course told me to go away. I held my head high and carried my look a like doll with me proudly! It makes me laugh to think about it. I must have envisioned myself a beautiful, multicultural princess when really I just ran around all summer half naked with no sun screen. And I guess granny thought I was adopted. I would say I was ahead of my time because even then I knew skin color didn’t make a difference. But, a few years later my mom bought me another Cabbage Patch Doll and the neighbor Matthew convinced me that there was a REAL Cabbage in it’s head thus the name Cabbage Patch Doll. Yep, I took a knife to doll #2’s head to see if it was true (its not true). See you thought I was a sweet girl until that part of the story…but I was also very, very curious. This story ends with me getting the belt.
I hate to end on a bad note, but I must go care for my real doll. I sure do miss Stephanie, if I had her Carlee and Connor could have another, more silent, sister! J