Operation: Surprise Bitch!

Brendan left Afghanistan. Finally. We were told he would fly to Germany then Dover Air Force Base then San Diego. As Dover is close by (well, closer than San Diego), I figured my family could meander up there and pounce on Uncle Brendan as he came off his plane. Instead Brendan emailed us and said that they would only be refueling at Dover, he wasn't even allowed off the plane, they would be on the ground for 11 minutes and just maybe it would be hard for us to get on to a military facility.

Bullshit.

In my speech at Brendan's wedding, I toasted the fact that he is made up of the best qualities of our wonderful parents....while I am all the crap that is left over (have you ever seen "Twins"? I'm Danny DeVito). However, I have a touch of our parents' finer attributes mixed in with a little Brie-zhush. For example - did you just say I couldn't get on to a military base with 3 children who may or may not have tiger blood in them? CHALLENGE ACCEPTED! Oh, it wasn't a challenge? I don't give a shit! Cue me pulling up Dover Air Force Base on Google and guess what? They publicly list all of their phone numbers. I spent a large portion of Friday & Saturday calling anyone who would listen to my tale of woe ("he's coming back from AFGHANISTAN! He is Naval BOMB SQUAD! He didn't have leg hair until he was TWENTY TWO! Please help me see my brother!") and finding every detail I could about how to get on that damn base.

This is the basic formula of my triumph - Mom's ability to talk to anyone & everyone in the world and relay my wishes sincerely + Dad's patient, fact-based business-like approach to all obstacles + my own two cents (also known as my boobs) = Entry to Dover Air Force Base. HEL-LO.

I was told we could hang in the Passenger Terminal and Brendan & his team would have to go through Customs after landing at 4pm. This would put them outside at 4:30. I was calm and kept repeating this mantra: IwillnotcryandIwillnotscream. IwillnotcryandIwillnotscream.

Suddenly - and 22 minutes ahead of schedule - a smoky windowed door opened. And out walked Brendan.

I literally could not breathe. He looked at me, made eye contact AND THEN THAT ASSHOLE LOOKED AWAY. HE HAD NO IDEA WHO I WAS. So guess what I did? I screamed. I screamed so loudly and launched myself at him out of disbelief that he was actually home, rage that he did not IMMEDIATELY know who I was and just plain 'ol weepy big sister happiness. To my credit, I think I should go to war because apparently me hurling myself at a professionally trained individual who can bench press trees, disarm ticking explosives and kill you 19 ways with a spork is scary as shit. Brendan's face went white and got this HOLYSONOFABITCHHELLBEAST look. Once he realized who I was and felt my children clambering up his leg he was shocked and surprised.....which is almost unheard of in Brendan. He kept saying, "Brie? BRIE? ARE YOU HERE? ARE YOU HERE IN DELAWARE? Dylan? Sawyer? Logan? WHAT IS HAPPENING? Nonono, Sawyer, no horsey rides now.....IS THIS REAL?!"

It was one of the best moments of my life.

My kids did not keep their affections confined just to Brendan. They mounted his teammates and offered up hugs, kisses, high fives, nut kicks, demands for piggyback rides and a lot of screaming (thank you for enduring, Sam & Chase). Lo took a shine to Brendan's Chief and chose him, and him alone, to hug for roughly 5 minutes straight with her head on his shoulder. And trust - that was just about the sweetest damn thing. Nothing like seeing the man who safely brought his whole team home get a big cuddle from our curly haired crazy. Thanks, Chief.

We managed to grab Brendan and his friend Matt and take them out to dinner. Brendan had 2 beers, became drunk as shit and could not stop hugging everyone. Matt, on the other hand, is an actual man who held his alcohol and relayed some fun stories of their travels such as discovering Brendan crying in his bed multiple times while watching videos of.......Mohawk, his dog.

Dropping Matt & Brendan back at the barracks was bittersweet. It was so nice to hug Brendan oruselves and see that he was OK. It was fantastic to meet some of the guys who worked just as hard as he did over there. Today, they are homebound to their wives, and I can only imagine their excitement. We'll see Brendan & Amy in April when they come back to VA to tear it up for a special wedding. Until then, Homis.

My absolute favorite part of this entire adventure - during dinner Matt asked me "so how much older is Brendan than you?" Score. Thank you, Oil of Olay Regenerist system.

An added bonus, I received this text from Bryn as we drove home last night - "I can't thank you enough for coming all the way here for me. I will never forget the surprise of seeing you all for the rest of my life."

Awwwwww. GOOD. Because we got ice & snow on the way home and Lo had gas, so I'm not buying you a Christmas gift for the next five years. Welcome home, dummy.

The Wednesday Email....Coming Home

Folks - Sunday has the potential to be a fantastic day. My brother is flying home from Afghanistan and has a layover at Dover Air Force Base. My mother, in her psychotic, controlling, Catholic-guilt inducing existence, had declared that my family & I MUST be at Dover to greet Brendan….even if he is on the ground for 11 minutes. Sure Mother…attempting to get on a military facility with 3 children who act like hyenas on meth sounds like the easiest idea ever. Sign me up. Unfortunately, she will not let this go and despite my brother having NO IDEA when his flight gets in, it has been relayed to me that I must be present for his arrival…even if he flies in at 4am.

Cue excitement for me because I am envisioning a slow-mo paranoramic shot of a huge jet, the sun setting and my kids embracing my long-deployed brother while Enya plays. I think my brother has a different mental vision more along the lines of me screaming at my kids, them getting their grubby hands on classified equipment and/or peering directly in to a functioning jet engine. Either way, $20 my mother would hire a band and send 78 Edible Arrangements. We are THAT EXCITED.

I am, however, psychic and have already seen how this will play out: I will drive to Dover on Sunday. I will finagle my way past guards, chicken-wire fences and a gaggle of young, hot wives. I will force my way to the front of the surging crowd to catch the first stateside glimpse of my brother. And I will yell, "HEY FUCKER! THE ROGAINE MOM SENT TO YOU IN AFGHANISTAN DIDN'T REALLY HELP! TOO BAD! I BROUGHT CHICK-FIL-A!" Because that is how my family rolls, people.

(Brendan is on right. He sent this picture to my sons and said "look, I found candy!" It's not candy nor is it helpful to me as a parent that my sons now consistently tell everyone there is an overabundance of candy in Afghanistan)

Please send your project information in by 9pm, people. It's a new Modern Family for God's sake.

Take That!....the comeback not the English boy band

I apologize for having gone MIA, friends. I occasionally have to really work at my job and while I always appreciate your (semi-stalking) "are you OK?" emails, I really could do without the "I knew your blog would start to suck at some point, liar!" ones. One such 'fan' actually wrote, "I bet you think & think all week and only can pop out ONE decent post. Real writers ALWAYS have material on hand!" Well guess what, whore? You're about to eat a shit sandwich...which conveniently can also be done in my van. I'll provide the necessary materials. I've reviewed some of my most recent emails to pals & family and have come to the conclusion that I - ahem - fucking kick ass at emailing people....when I have the time.

To A Coworker:
Admirable. You are really sticking to your latest character - Jonah, the shy Amish boy visiting the big city. Tell girls you like to groom your horse, Pepper. $20 you'll be the most popular guy in the bar.

To My Brother-in-Law who keeps asking me what to send my parents for a thank you gift:
So glad the Midol is helping. I crush it into most of Pat's meals.

Expressions of thanks and appreciations for the Schmutte's…….some options:

1. Fund a wing of Inova Fairfax and call it the Lamar Schmutte Old Person Taking Care Of Section. Mom loves Lamar (RIP, homey) and loves old people.

2. Get 5 Masses said for Mom. Two just says 'acquaintances', 6 says 'sexual desire' so 5 is a nice medium ground.

3. Fly to Afghanistan. Cut a lock of hair from Brendan. Bring it to my mother for her to weep over and forget, as always, that I exist.

4. Flowers, Edible Arrangements or Thai prostitutes are actually your best bet.

You're super neat. Anything you send will ensure my mother calls me screaming, "DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT ADORABLE CHRIS YOUNG SENT?" and I will most likely respond, "This is the amount of shit I am giving - click."

To A Friend:
Holy shit, it's almost 1pm. WTF? Where has the day gone?! I currently smell like Cool Ranch Doritos and desperately need a nap. I just emailed someone named Koch but spelled the last name Kock. I wonder if they'll notice.

To Another Friend:
My dad and I talked on the phone last night. He went on & on about how Lady Gaga really knows her shit and seems very educated and astute. I said, "did you watch the interview on Good Morning America?" and he said yes, and I said, "the one where she was wearing a body condom and had horns on her head?" and he said, yes, that one. There was some silence and I asked him what he thought of Miley Cyrus but he said she is common gutter trash.

To My Cousin:
Joseph, so wonderful to hear from you. Even more glad to hear you are officially someone's boyfriend though, until I meet J., I will believe she is a robot. Your pictures prove nothing. That could just be Clare in a Beyonce mask.

Actually the weekend you named, Bryn and Amy will be here! The timeline is packed but you guys are so welcome to stay here should J's parents find your inbred albino bloodline undesirable. We have the room and as soon as Kris knows you'll be within 50 miles of my house, she's probably going to order mobile toilets and sleep on my deck all in the name of Accommodating Joe.

As for my kids - shit. The boys are enrolled in lacrosse and karate. Dylan has displayed some coordination and ability to catch on to new skills. Sawyer has displayed his great need for an MRI and a straight jacket. Lo likes to now mock me while pointing her finger in my face. She is going to be really sad when I break that finger off and offer it up to Lamar.

We still have the drawings Uncle Joe did and the boys ask about you all the time. I always tell them we will continue to TiVo How To Catch A Predator until we catch a glimpse of you. Hugs!

Is there anything more beautiful than the English language? Thanks for being patient, friends.

The Wednesday Email....for DHJ

Guys - Today is a huge day for me. HUGE. Yes, it is my son's 6th birthday (IloveyouDylan) hence the mega adorableness above but that is not why I am giddy. Today marks the day that I…..became addicted to drugs. And not just any drugs but the BEST drug, the most fulfilling & phenomenal drug. The one that makes my heart race and I would buy it on the streets of Anacostia if I could.

Please meet my lady, the epidural.
Yes, having my kids was a fantastic experience. Welcoming life in to the world and hearing those first cries…yada, yada, yada. WHERE THE FUCK IS THE NEEDLE? Like any first time mom, I was pretty nervous 6 years ago. I was the first of my friends to have a baby. My mother was no help because I think she had me while on the Oregon Trail or fighting in the Revolutionary War.

My big fears at the time?
1) Not being able to eat during labor. This made no sense to me. How was I to fuel up for a grueling delivery if not ravaging a giant burrito for power?
2) Not being able to wear pants. My mother kept saying, "sweetie, you can't wear pants during childbirth." I kept insisting that I could make it work through a series of snaps and maybe a cape.
3) The Epidural Needle. You hear horror stories of it being as long as a Mack truck and some random doctor would just walk in to your room and jam it in your back with no warning and then take your kidneys.

Thankfully I overcame all my issues…well, not the eating one. I still find that ludicrous and during child #3 delivery, I actually slapped my husband's chicken nuggets clear across the room as he had the audacity to eat them in front of me (this was obviously before the beautiful epidural was received). I handled my following pregnancies with a stiff upper lip (OK, MAYBE a few crying jags in the bathroom when traffic made me late and I missed the Boston crème doughnuts on Free Bagel Day) because I knew….I knew my precious epidural and I would be reunited and it would be glorious.

So, happy 6th to my oldest baby. Also, happy anniversary to me & the epidural. Around 1:25 today I will slip in to a memory coma and relieve every glorious moment that drug gave me. The initiaI anxiety, the pinch....and then.....The Calm. The wave of numbness and beauty coursing through my spinal column whispering, "shhhh, it's OK. We know, we know. What fucker eats chicken nuggets in front a woman in labor? Trust, he is about to get an EYEFUL that he can never UNSEE. You SHOULD be able to wear pants during this. Really, you should. Shhhhhh. And yes, it IS unsettling that the nurse keeps checking your dilation while wearing her 19 carat engagement ring. Maybe you can force your vagina to steal it. I kid, I kid. Shhhhh."

I was even calm when my husband said, "can we get a continuous drip of this…..until 2023?" Shut the f.....oh yes, that's the stuff.

CNN Wants To Get It On

Perusing CNN….reading all about Egypt's main dude peacing out, blah, blah. Find an article entitled "How To Have Great Valentine's Day Sex" which is, of course, written by a man and all about how he is NOT going to take NO for an answer regarding sex on VDay.

Here's a direct quote - "this year there will be no extravagant dinner, no flimsy lingerie that will never get worn, no expensive jewelry bought at the last minute—and no possibility of not having sex."

Sounds sexy...and reads mildly like something from the diary of a rapist.

Read it here - http://pagingdrgupta.blogs.cnn.com/2011/02/10/valentines-day-skip-the-fancy-meal-and-go-straight-to-the-sex/?hpt=T2

His 10 step plan includes sexy dreams, a 30 second hug and going to CVS. A drug store? I'm hot already, do me!

Another fave quote - "If we speak during the day, I’ll make an effort to stay positive." As opposed to how you usually sound? On Valentine's Day I will be upbeat. Every other day, I will speak to you like a filthy indentured chambermaid.

I went to CVS, whore!

Anyway, that's not the best part….at the end of the article, CNN always suggests "Related Articles". After reading the above, you'd think more articles on sex or holidays or couples. Nope.

It read "What Does A Floating Stool Mean?"

I love you, CNN.

The Wednesday Email

Friends - I broke my blackberry this week. It fell to the ground and, very much like a movie, everything went in to slow motion with me screaming, "NOOOOOOOOOO MOTHERFUCCCCCCCCCCCCKERRRR!" and it breaking in to 8 chunks of metal, keys and exposed wire. Thankfully I have a friend who does tech support and could perform surgery on my silver friend. Everything came back including some new icons like the one that indicated voicemail.

Now this is new because I have never been able to check my voicemail. Never. I created a greeting, implemented a passcode….promptly forgot it and next time I tried to access the voicemail, it was locked. The 1s (my company's internal tech gurus) told me it was an "I D ten T error" which translates to 'idiot' (say it and look at the word) so I just let it go, and the voicemail icon, sensing my disregard, just went away.

Cut this week: I told the husband, "my phone is fixed and I have voicemails! I need to listen to them!" He went pale. He said, "you told me you can't check your voicemail? You said, and I quote, 'I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO CHECK MY VOICEMAIL'." Suspicion creeps in and I ask why this is terrifying him so. People, my husband has been calling my voicemail and screaming in to it when he is mad at me. Let's say we had an argument over bills and maybe we huffed at each other but attempted to be adult and mature and didn't say things like "well if you weren't at Chipotle oh, let's count it shall we? EIGHT TIMES THIS WEEK we wouldn't be having this discussion." He has BEEN CALLING MY VOICEMAIL TO DO JUST THAT.

It is now essential that I listen to these voicemails. The 1s….they didn't understand. They said they can't magically 'unlock' my voicemail so I can listen to my husband's rants. I believe the helpful 1s man said, "Ma'am, why can't he just tell you what he said? I can reset your voicemail but it will erase everything." I screamed, "NO RAHJESH! You do not UNDERSTAND! I need to hear these voicemails and know EXACTLY what my husband has been ranting about. He thinks MY VOICEMAIL is his private little place of safety. NO MORE! NO MORE, RAHJESH! WE MUST BREAK THE CHAINS!"

We are now locked in a battle of voicemail wills. My husband vs Me vs The 1s.

I will dominate.

I will get those voicemails.

I will also be getting a fan-damn-tastic Valentine's Day present. I smell your fear, asshole! He knows what's good for him.

My Quoteable Family

"Within 10 minutes of being on the dock, Sawyer had dismantled my fishing pole and I kicked your mother's Ray Bans in to the water goddamit!"
- Dad

"THERE'S MY FRIEND!"
- Mom frantically waving at obese sign spinner on street corner

Pat (listening to me sing along with the radio): You think when deaf people drive their cars they sign along with the music?
Me: Pat, they're deaf.
Pat: Annnnnnnd?

Sawyer: I wanna go in Bucket's murder home.
Meemaw: MOTOR home, Sawyer. Say MO.
Sawyer: MO
Meemaw: Say TUR
Sawyer: TUR
Meemaw: MOTOR HOME.
Sawyer: MURDER HOME.

Bucket: Sawyer, what town do you live in?
Sawyer: LEESBURG!
Bucket: What's your zip code?
Sawyer: 99.5 KYS FM.

"My dream vacation would be to go to an amazingly quiet beach that has clear blue water and I don't have to walk far to it and we have a great big house and all of our friends & family can come with us!"
- Me
"My dream vacation would be to go to all the places on Diners, Drive-ins & Dives."
- Pat

Dylan: Mama, I love my friend, Tommy. He has the nicest smile!
Me: That's so nice, Dylan! Why is his smile so great?
Dylan: Because it's like this! (smiles big & pulls eyes out to outer corners of head with fingers)
*Tommy is Asian. Fuck.

Me (pregnant, craving sugar & not wanting to share has plans to run in to CVS and eat monstrous amounts of candy under the guise of picking up something else): I need to run in to CVS. I need something.
Sawyer (in backseat): I LOOOOOOOOVE SOMETHING!
Pat: Something, huh? Like DORITOS?
Sawyer (in backseat): I LOOOOOOOOOVE DORITOS!
Pat: You shouldn't be eating that! You have been eating so badly this pregnancy!
Me: Um, EXCUSE ME. I am actually going in for vagina cream, OK? You want to come in with me while I waddle around CVS looking for VAGINA CREAM?
Sawyer (in backseat): I LOOOOOOOOVE VAGINA CREAM!
Pat (now nauseous): Dear God, look what you've done. Just go but I'm smelling your breath when you come back!