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January 3rd, 2000

Happy New Millennium! I'm writing to you from my bomb shelter using a souped-up Etch-a-Sketch. Oh shoot. The dog just knocked over my canned goods. Stupid dog. I wouldn't have brought her but if I run out of know.

Hope everyone had a nice ringing in of the New Year! Ours was great. We stayed up until midnight and then at 12:05 snuck over to our littlest daughter and kissed her on her cheek as she lay sleeping. That's when she turned five.

While each experience of giving birth to my children had their own highs and lows, the one I remember best was Allison, who was born the first baby in Colorado in 1995.

I cried all the way to the hospital in the car.

"Honey - you don't have to cry. You've done this before. You'll be okay."

"That's not why I am crying. I just can't have a baby on New Years Eve."

Visions of my daughter in a dress so tight she looked like a fruit roll-up danced through my head. There she was, winking at me and offering a toast, while she slammed down shots of tequila in celebration of both the New Year and her birthday as various men tossed her garter about like a party favor.

"I just can't do this. I really can't."

By three minutes to midnight that evening I had half the populace of Montana in my room. Apparently local hospitals compete for this coveted "First Babe" trophy like bad-tempered children at a Pokemon Rally. I recognized janitors, vending machine repairmen and people that were not even on shift as they gathered between my legs nibbling caviar on crackers and toasting my labor as if I was a centerpiece at some swanky buffet.

Eight minutes later, at 12:05am, she was born. Allison Emily - the first baby in Colorado in 1995. I spent the next twenty-four hours riding the ragged edge of exhaustion while various members of the local media photographed and interviewed us in rapid succession. I admit in hindsight this was all exciting, but with each hour that passed my humor began to ebb along with it.

"So," one reporter asked me, "What do you do in your real life?"

"As opposed to the fake one I'm living now!" I screamed back at him as I hurled a fruit bowl at his head.

I just was not in the mood. Though I seldom am. I can chalk that up to motherhood. I had a sense of humor once, but I am afraid if I bring it out at home one of the kids will take it and misplace along with some dirty socks.

Today was also a day to reflect on all the ironies in the universe. Irony number one, for example:

Monica Lewinski is set to step in to some Jenny Craig shoes and teach us all a little something about weight loss. Well. Who better to educate us about keeping things out of our mouths. I hardly think Jenny is offering up "Presidential Private Bits" on her new Millennium Diet Regimen. What a boon for business she is bound to be.

"Hi. I'm Monica. Yes, you too can be thinner, just like me! Why, with the Starr Report, bazillions of reporters and Hillary hunting me down, the pounds are just melting off! And all of those private liaisons with Mr. Bill? Well, who has room for Godiva chocolate and ice cream cake when your mouth is already full!

Ew ew ew.

I can hardly wait until the tobacco companies snap her up. Those commercials are sure to be a hootenanny.

Irony number two: I can be Summer's Eve Fresh on a Winter's day.

On a lighter note, my neighbor is borrowing my copy of The Matrix. I've made it very clear that this is not just a film, it's a lifestyle! It must return to me in impeccable shape so I can continue to sleep with it beneath my pillow. Fanatic, you say? Not I. The mere fact that I saw this over twenty times in the theater alone should tell you what an incredible rock of sanity I am.

After typing the above, I can already see my brother in Florida making faces when he reads this. Nic, I love you but you aren't a cerebral guy. Oh wait. Now I'll never get that loan. My brother is right. The movie sucks.

I had been hoping the children would do something cute and endearing so I'd have something noteworthy to offer you. Natch. I've been plying them with liquor and antidepressants now. I hope to have something within a day or so.

Oh, one thing. For my brother -- the rest of you just turn away, I'll let you know when I am done. Nic, thank you so much for sending that child-size Barbie Wedding Dress home with Mom and Dad from Florida. Allison loves it so much, I can't pry her out of it. Of course it's wrinkling some in her sleep, but she does look adorable. I quite imagine it's almost as cute as I looked passed out in my gown after my wedding reception many years back. Festive and functional.

News flash! And now, straight from Boston, a team of researchers there -- no doubt funded by my hard spent tax dollars -- have conclusive evidence that chewing gum burns up calories! In fact, for one full hour of chewing you can shed off a whopping 11 calories in that sixty minute span alone! Calculations indicate that a person who does nothing other than chew gum every waking hour for an entire year can drop a nifty 11 pounds. Well, I'm stocking up on the Bubblelicious now. I wonder if Monica has heard about this? Here's egg on her face. Well, I sure hope that's egg.

I have decided, for tomorrow, that I am presenting to you a "List of Players". I think it's imperative you know more about the folks who surround me. And, Nic? I'll say nothing but flattering things about you cause you're so rich. Wink wink. Stay tuned....


Unless otherwise specified, all material
Copyright 1999 by
Marijke Hildreth



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