Once upon a time we used to be fun.

And have friends.

And with friends came get togethers. However instead of parties, we used to host murder mystery dinners, which were a lot more fun. Inevitably, I was always the murderer..whether by fate or divine intervention the role suited me quite well.

Now one year we held one that was based around the 1970′s. I played a version of Gloria Steinbeck and DH was some tripped out version of John Travolta. You have no idea how hard we searched for 70′s garb in the thrift stores. In and out and in and out. Nada.

Bell Bottoms are not as easy to find as you may think.

We finally settled and decided that ANYTHING tacky would work and bought this outfit, complete with child molester sunglasses. I am pretty sure the pants were a size 12 in boys.

While Chris’ outfit alone is completely ridiculous, the funniest part you cannot even see.

His pants RIPPED the crotch open when he put them on well before anyone had even arrived. I think maybe we stapled them back.

I peed myself laughing that night -and I cant even blame it on the weak bladder I sustained from labor.

~Trisha

I hated being pregnant.

I hated the entire concept from throwing up, to getting bigger, to labor. Therefore, I hated any form of pregnancy “documentation”.

But I did allow 1 picture to be taken of me showing my stomach. This was taken almost one month to the day before Charlotte was born.

Now my hair- it has it’s own memory. Earlier that day I made the mistake of thinking that I needed to CUT and COLOR it. I took off about 4 inches.

I cried.

And cried.

And cried.

Who the hell colors and cuts their hair while pregnant?

Me.

~Trisha