17 Weeks. Seriously, My Back Really Hurts You Guys.

Wait a minute; what happened to 16 weeks?

16th week recap: For two consecutive blissful nights, I didn't wake up at 2 AM to pee. The end.

17 weeks? Yes, still with the peeing. And my back is killing me. But I won't bore you with my grievances. Nay, I shall tell you that I had a doc's appointment this week, and Ninja is still glorious. Heart rate is about 155, though the N was very squirmy. The doctor found the heartbeat right away, but then she'd lose it. "The baby is really moving around in there," she said. "You hear that noise?" she asked, referring to a strange, muted, underwatery, sounding motion. (Amazing description! You should be a writer!) "That's a hand or foot moving through the amniotic fluid."

Well, go Ninja, with your stealth kung fu. Bad. Ass. (Or maybe he is a dancer, J!)

(Oh, I said he. I have to stop that, but honestly, I am convinced I am cooking a boy.)

OK, so the ten of you (and my new son or daughter) don't really want to hear about all of this, do you? I mean babies are adorable and chubby and snuggly, but still, I have something BETTER. Oh my. Something, insanely delicious. Are you ready?

You must know that J and I journeyed to my mother's for some eats on Sunday. My stepfather, Bucky (not a pseudonym) mentioned he was cleaning out the basement. "I have a bunch of your stuff down there," he added. "I'm going to throw it out if you don't go through it."

(As if! They have been threatening me like this for ten years.)

But later, Buck came upstairs carrying a ginormous box filled with mother-effing TREASURES.

Where to begin? There were sketches. Sketches of my EIGHT future kids. (Judd says: Oh HAHA! "Victoria Leslie" was born in 2002. Loser.) And there names were awesome and regal. And then I also maybe sketched their rooms. And then maybe some fabulous designer fashions. And maybe I wrote a song entitled "Nice and Naughty." Oh, oh yes I did.

Verse 1
Some say I 'm nice
Some say I'm naughty
Some say I'm perfect
Some say I oughta be PUT AWAY

Verse 2
Some say they like me!
Some say they don't
Some say they'll learn to
Some say they won't

Refrain
OHH! Someday I'll just be me! But for now I'll settle for nice and naughty!
(nice-nice-nice-nice and naughty! HOO!)

(I was going to stop there, but the song actually has one more verse which is just too good not to share.)

Verse 3
Some say they love me
Some say they hate me!
Some say they'll be my boyfriend!
Some say they'll date me!

(REPEAT REFRAIN)

You guys? I was like 17 when I wrote this.

Okay, I kid. I was 11. Back in the days when I was just content to settle for nice and naughty, man.

(David Foster: Call me!)

Oh em gee - there were also all kinds of stories! "The Grandmother's Secret" and "Snow" and "A Mysterious Disappearance."

There was a newspaper, the cover of which bears the headline: "Michael Jackson's Split Personality!" That story?

Michael Jackson, a popular musical singer, and former member of the Jackson 5, was admitted to the psychiatric ward of Newberry Hospital today after it was found by millions of Japanese fans that he does, in fact, have a split personality - a sister, Janet.

It appears that after a long period of loneliness Michael created the woman we know as Janet Jackson. She was also made a star.

"He came out on stage and scared the fans by changing his voice back and forth," says fan Ching Heng.

"We were shocked at Michael's mental instability," says Janet.

"No we weren't, says Michael.

(The Onion: Call me!)

There was a stirring poem:

Melissa
Stubborn and sweet,
Messy and neat.
Funny, crazy,
Sometimes lazy.
Addicted to junk food,
Usually in a good mood.

(Judd says: Oh HAHAHA! Nothing has changed at ALL! At least you were always self-aware.)

(Present-day HomeValley says: Wow. That description is on point. Shit.)

Oh hey, Cuzzy?? Did you think you escaped my biting commentary?

Here is your poem, my love:

Tough; boy-crazy,
sometimes lazy.
Messy, messy, messy!
Always beats up on Jessie.
Usually has a smile on,
Will always be in love with John.

(Who is John, 9 year-old cuzzy?)
(Wait, I just remembered. HA!)

Oh, and amongst various entrepreneurial start-ups (read: The Babysitter's Club), I also found the time to publish a magazine. I give you: Girls, Etc.

October 1992 Cover

Time to Grow Up: Should You Make Your Own Decisions?

Preteen Problems: Junior High Blues

Peer Pressure: How to Deal

Test: Boys Before Books (Are you boy-crazy?)

Joining the Bandwagon: What's In and Out for Fall

(For the love of GOD Oprah: CALL ME!)

I think one thing we've all re-learned today, is that I am awesome. Or, that at one time, I was incredibly creative. It is a damn good thing blogging came about, lest I still be sitting in my room, listening to my Electric Youth album, composing songs about how people say they either hate me, or might possibly LEARN to LIKE me.

I take the GMATs tomorrow, kids. After that, it's on.