douche bags with free drinks

We went to two parties this afternoon.  The first was very nice, good friends, Portillo's catering - yes.  cannot go wrong.  and a marvelous ice-cream cake from Coldstone covered in chocolate ganache that I'm dreaming about now.  Chris, who couldn't sleep last night because of the amazing poop machine, was tired and dreading the second party, which (his dread) was draining to me.  I felt uncomfortable at this party, but the piece de resistance was, after several relatives tried to egg me on about how if you told the bartender (who did nothing about the no soap in the ladies room problem) "Obama sucks," she would give you a free drink.  After the first explanation of this, I smiled and said I didn't want to talk about it to the following attempts.  As we were trying to leave (because Gracie had out-pooped the number (6) of diapers I stuffed into my purse) my youngest uncle hugged me goodbye, then wouldn't let go as he brought up Obama.  I said I didn't want to talk about it and he kept me in a hold and played the pro-abortion card.  I mean, he had his arm around my head and was loudly exclaiming "abortion!" I escaped, furious.  I remained calm and left the party without telling anybody what a dick they are.  All I can say is that when their guy was in office, no matter what he did wrong, Americans are supposed to have respect for the office of the president.  Great job, douche bags with free drinks.  

Last night we went to the wake of my uncle's father.  (different uncle, different family)  I enjoy spending time with my Dad's side of the family.  The girls and I stayed just a little too long at the after party and Gracie liquipooped on my leg, down her pants and socks.  Again, I ran out of diapers.  My uncle was so accommodating and sweet; he gave me one of his dad's old Depends and said we should give her a bath, just like his dad.  

Pa told me it was the 4 year anniversary of Gram's death.  I didn't even know that.  I've never been to her grave.  I wonder if that makes him think I don't care.  I guess I don't want to see his headstone there; they just set his in when they buried her.  I think about her every day.  I wouldn't look at her open casket.  I was a pall bearer.  I just don't want to visit her grave.  It's not like she's there.  I visit Pa about once a month.  

My Dad's side are democrats.

Before the wake, I took the girls to an art opening, and before that, we had some friends over.  I researched fossils on this great website.  But kids don't care about that.  They just want to make the pudding.  Especially when they are acting all crazy because their friends are over.  We should have people over every week so the kids don't act so crazy.  

Charlotte lost another tooth on the way to the wake.  She showed everyone.  Today she told everyone she went to a party called "the wake."  At "the wake," the family next to ours was a big Italian party, pouring out of their assigned room.  They had cannolis.  Not only is their family appealing to me because I grew up in a town where you weren't cool if you weren't Italian, but ... what I wouldn't do for a good cannoli.  I thought about asking for one, but I didn't think that would be appropriate.