Let’s Fucking Do This!

So, some background first, I guess.

I am an Army brat.  My dad served for 24 years in the Army.  I spent most of my childhood in Germany, and I really miss it.  My mom is Korean.  She’s a little 5 foot tall hurricane of crazy ass Korean.  Seriously.  Did you hear that Asian women are supposed to be submissive?  Not the case.  Her temper can put Irish tempers to shame.  My dad is 6’4″, blonde hair, blue eyes, and one of the most kindhearted men on the planet.  I still call him an asshole, and make fun of him on a regular basis.  Because that is how my family shows love.  I’m actually really hoping we have a daughter at some point, so I can feel the pride of her calling a boy an asshole because she thinks it’s a term of endearment.

My husband is in the Army, so I am now an Army spouse.  Seriously, I can’t get away from this shit.  We have a beautiful 5 month old son, Jonathan, who was born on September 11th.  My friends have told me, “Of course Judy would have a baby born on September 11th!”  I didn’t plan it, people.  I would have been thrilled if I never went through 34 hours of labor and he was born on the 9th or 10th!  Speaking of, here are some dates to chew on concerning the birth of my son:

  • We found out we were pregnant on New Years Eve 2011.
  • Jonathan was born in the year of the Water Dragon.  I’m Asian.  This should mean something to me, but I have no idea what.  Apparently, it means he’s going to be a hardcore badass that will make Chuck Norris look like a sissy.  He’s doing a great job of it so far.
  • We found out we were having a boy on April 10th, 2012, which was the 10th year anniversary of when my little brother passed away.  Creepy?  Message from beyond the grave?  Like, “Name this little fucker Jonathan, or else.”  Who knows.
  • Of course, Jonathan was born on September 11th.  I went into labor on the 9th.  We all know the significance of September 11th, and on the day he was born was when the Benghazi attacks went down.  Of course, I was blissfully ignorant of the attacks at the time.  I was a little busy pushing an 8 lb. 10 oz. baby out of my lady garden.  Still…significant?

Basically, I can either expect awesome things from my son, or I should have named him Damien.  It’s really too soon to tell, but sometimes I’m convinced he’s a demon baby what with waking me up at all hours of the night.  Either way, he’s our son, and I love him tons.  Here’s a picture of the little demon baby.  He’s clearly plotting the bloody and violent demise of that poor teddy bear.  Or maybe that teddy bear wronged him when I wasn’t looking.  That bastard.

DSC_0102

And when we return, an exciting account of the most boring pregnancy and delivery on the planet!  Stay tuned, or I will find your families.  I don’t know what I’ll do with them when I find them…let your imagination run wild.  I’m sure what you can think of is worse than what I would actually do.

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