Well hello there, dear Bleep.
As this is a new blog, here is the obligatory first post. Where I introduce myself and tell you all about my life and story and humor and awesomeness, and then we hold hands as butterflies get released and rainbows shoot out our b-holes. It’s glorious, truly.
Frankly, the first post freaks me out. It’s a lot of pressure you know? So let’s just say this… I expect this post will suck. If I exceed your expectations, then it’s a good start. And if you think it sucks too, well then we’re starting on the same page. At least it can only get better then, eh?
Here’s the brief summary–I’m sure I’ll have many years of blogging now in which to provide you all the gory details, but in the event you didn’t come here from Busted Plumbing (and therefore don’t know what you’re about to get yourself into), you should at least have some sort of informed consent. Perhaps I shall develop a release of some sort?
Busted Plumbing was my first blog. As someone who had been struggling about four or five years with infertility, I needed a place to blow of some steam. I was tired of being depressed about my rotten lady bits, and hated the fact that on the rare occasion I could manage to GET pregnant I couldn’t STAY pregnant. As supportive as my family and friends were (are), they were tired of me being depressed and angry, too. Who wouldn’t be exhausted, thinking about hostile cervical mucus all day long?
One day, I just said “f%&# this”. I think “F$%# it” or “F@&*% this” is probably my family’s unofficial motto, as you will undoubtedly see in the posts to come. I decided to think of infertility as funny. Peeing on sticks, trading fertility charms like they were frickin’ Pokemon cards, ritual killings to honor the gods of procreation (don’t worry, it was mostly just homeless people)… I was wiped out. And probably wanted in like, five or six states. I needed a release that didn’t involve bleaching the back of my car out.
So, I put it all out there. My first post honored Chuck Norris, and when you start with Chuck Norris… well it’s pretty much all downhill from there, right? There were soap opera’s involving my hostile cervical mucus, and even some diversions like that time I got a fancy dancy haircut in Manhattan (spoiler alert, there was drama). But I was trucking along–venting, laughing, lamenting. It was all fun and games until I got pregnant. AGAIN. But something weird happened this time.
It stuck. And then there was a heartbeat. And then there was a gender (boy). And I was all, “holy crow how do I write an infertility blog and be pregnant?” So then it became a pregnancy humor blog. Cue the fart posts, the poop posts (one where I even make a Hiroshima joke… too soon?), and yes… even more mucus talk (might be my most favorite post title of ALL TIME).
And then, all of a sudden I was a mom. Tucker graced my husband (Adam) and I with his presence in December 2010. Cue the posts about your average, every-day mom problems… you know, like my armpits smelling like maple syrup and me mistakenly assuming Tucker had grown facial hair.
But as time went on, I felt weird about talking about my life as a mom on a blog I originally intended to be about all the funny shizz that happens when you’re trying to be a mom. So, I just crapped out. Not in the bathroom sense (although there was lots of that too), but in the gambling sense. I had put too much of my chips on the table, and felt bad for flaunting my winnings in front of the others.
Of course, my Bleeps were supportive. [Side Note: BLEEPS = Blog Peeps, or my bloggie friends. It also works because I curse a lot, but try to censor myself as much as possible, thus making the "bleep" an unintended theme 'round these here parts.] But still, if you win the lottery but all your friends are still struggling to make ends meet, who wants to be the a-hole who rolls up in the new Ferrari two to three times a week talking about how awesome it is to be rich?
I mostly just stopped posting. Of course the posts during National Infertility Awareness week or when one of my Infertile friends had a kiddo, I’d pop on. I tried to create a new blog, that was JUST the really inappropriate stuff… but it turned out I didn’t really feel like myself when I was uncensored, either. That blog became my Tumblr account, which is now mostly just the hilarious things I find on the internet.
I realized that I didn’t just need the blog, and the community of wonderful, amazing people who went along with it, to get through infertility. I needed it to get through life. I’ve felt like I’ve had a big hole in my heart for the last year or so.
So, time to start fresh. A place where I could give Busted Plumbing a home, without feeling like I couldn’t talk about my kid, or non-infertility things like Prince Harry’s glorious naked booty. Which brings me to Busted Kate.
Even though I’ve “graduated” from infertility, I’m still Busted. My plumbing, which turned out to surprise us all by carrying a baby, is still busted. My brain… read two or three posts and it won’t take a psychologist to tell you something’s broken in there. Also? We recently moved into a new-to-us old home that is a perfect little 1970s time capsule, complete with lead paint and asbestos. When my tagline says “…because something is always broken”, it is TRUST ME.
A little bit about me: I’ve been married to Adam for almost 10 years. No, I’m not THAT old… we just got married when we were 15 and 16. Okay okay, I don’t live THAT far out in the Arizona boonies. We got married right out of college, which puts me in my early 30s. Adam and I are bonded together out of our senses of humor coupled with a high tolerance for chaos and disorganization (oh, there will definitely be a post about our garage at some point), added to our mutual abilities to instantly map out a place for escape and improvised weapons in the event of a zombie attack. And the things that make us different… well we tease each other relentlessly about. Usually on Facebook.
But I think (hope) we agree that we’re stuck with each other, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Here’s a picture of us when I was preggo with Tucker, and we were at a University of Arizona football game (Bear Down!!). Adam had decided that he was going to grow a “pregnancy mustache” because apparently we are fancy now? Don’t get me started…
Anywhoodle. Here’s the kid… picking his nose I think:
He’s the most adorable trouble-maker in the history of EVER. In my humble, unbiased opinion, of course.
I’m definitely unrefined even on the best of days, and the most I can hope for on the worst is “irreverent”. I won’t post craft ideas here, I give my kid Red Solo cups and dull knives to play with. I can’t cook, so I can guarantee there won’t be any recipes suitable for pinterest… unless you count me making something that was expired but I didn’t get sick from it. If you’re looking for one of those adorable “mom” blogs where you get ideas on how to be a Type-A, clean, organized, popular, put-together, Stepford wife/mom… well just move along right now. I’m sorry I wasted your time linking to my “Welcome Back Cooter” post.
Be warned, I love bathroom humor. My dad, who is currently a pilot in Afghanistan, and I will talk on the phone only in the most rare occasions because it costs a fortune… and when we do, we usually use the time to fart into the phone and giggle about it. I prefer vacations that involve shooting BB guns off the back porch of some redneck cabin in the woods (story forthcoming).
I use the dots (aka “….”) WAY too much). I ramble. I digress. I’ll probably give you more than you ever wanted to know about the random things I find on the internet.
I love to laugh. Loudly, inappropriately, and at the most awkward, ridiculously things and places. I think I should just start the tag “You can’t take me anywhere” right now.
Bottom line… I’m not really good at anything, except being real. Hopefully this constitutes enough of a warning that I can reiterate “Don’t say I didn’t warn you” somewhere down the line… probably in court, but whatever. I got those pre-paid attorneys. They’ll probably be fine.
Thanks for reading my first post, and hopefully you come back for many more. As I said, the real fun about all this is making new friends.