So I'll blame it on bad luck and I'll shake responsibility.

Short story of a teenage mommy who didn't die or turn into a worthless loser. Well, depends on the definition you use for loser.



Guess what I didn't get for my 18th birthday? A visit from Aunt Flo. Yep, uh to the oh.

It was my senior year of high school. I had a full time job. Not to mention that I am the oldest of 5 children so I was also an indentured servant at the homestead. Life was busy enough, so of course I just had to change it up. Joey and I had been dating all of 3 long months and well, shit happens.

I spent the first few months of said situation in denial. I only told my sister, that's it. Of course when the denial started to wane I finally broke down and told my best friend(s). During this time I was working as a CNA at an Assisted Living facility along side my mother. Who, as noted above, was not yet privy to the knowledge of her oldest daughter being with child. I wasn't scared of her, but more so unable to bear the thought of my daddy being disappointed in my whore self. So day in and day out I lifted and cared for heavy ass old people rather than confess to my co-workers and reveal my secret. Each morning before I walked in the door I'd be outside puking in the bushes, courtesy of my friend morning sickness. Then I'd stroll in with a faux smile and get to work for the day.There had already been one instance where my mom had said to me "I don't think you should wear those jeans anymore, they make you look pregnant." Crap. So I just kept up the facade to avoid dealing with reality.

One day my sister decided enough was enough and told my mom when I was about 5 months into the mess. This in no way had anything to do with the fact that she herself (who is 3 years & 9 months younger than me) was also pregnant. Not like she wanted to drop any bombs on my mom herself or anything. Nooo.

Upon hearing the unsettling news my mother told me that she was "so happy" (Did I mention yet that my mother was all of 36 years old at this time? Wacko!) and took me to lunch. I ate lasagna and drank lemonade. And then we went shopping for baby stuff. When she finally told my daddy for me his only response was "shit." and he was nothing but the most sweetest dad a girl could ask for. My harlot self had been forgiven. Probably because, well, they knew what would be ahead for me and no sense in punishing me since I'd unwittingly done so myself.

Well Christmas morning I woke up with these awful pains that kept showing up every 5-minutes. I was still unsure if this crap was labor or not, but I rationalized with myself that even if it wasn't labor something was really wrong with my knocked up teenage ass and I had better get to the hospital.

5-hours later and during a Utah Jazz game on the hospital TV I became the owner of a baby boy child creature. I was so drugged up and out of it. Merriest Christmas of them all.

Anyways, 4 years after that Joey and I decided to go ahead and get married. So we went to Vegas with all the fam and friends. Then within a year we bought our own home and decided that we should have a companion for Sookie Pookie to mess with. So second boy child creature showed up. It is a lot different when you do it on purpose. You actually give yourself a lot harder of a time when you're puking your guts out. "Who wanted a new baby? Oh wait, it was you, you dumbass!"

Anyway, long story short, both of the animals will be completely out of high school by the time I hit 40. I'll still be young-ish enough to enjoy life and by then I might even like these kids a little bit. ;) Who knows?