You’ll never guess what I woke up to, The Internet! Well, okay, if you guessed that I woke up to a knocked over mail box, you’d be right, because that’s what happens during the winters here. It’s kind of not awesome because it’s NO ONE’S FAULT you see, least of all the plow’s, and I have to somehow cobble together a working mailbox in sub-zero weather.

Ah, Chicago. Two seasons: Ass Hot and Ass Cold.

Either way, this is on the list of things I’ll deal with when I get back because I don’t really give a flying poo right now.

Because what’s REALLY cool about this morning besides renewing my sorted love affair with Dunkin’ Donuts coffee is this:

I recognize that this looks like I typed it up myself and I assure you that I have more official looking documents, but this was the biggest looking thing with my businesses name on it.

Oh yes, I incorporated this morning. Which makes me feel like I should have like morphed into something else, perhaps with metal and sharks with freakin’ laser beams on their heads or something. But no, I walked out of my attorney’s office the exact same person, just laden with a bunch of papers.

So, what does this really MEAN in the grand scheme of it all? Nothing much.

My community site and Mommy Wants Vodka will run under the umbrella corp of Copy on the Rocks, Inc (certainly, har-dee-har-har at a loss)(which, trust me, is fine).

But it’s official and it means that I am PROPERLY a Business Person and I can apply for Business Things and probably buy one of those “perpetual motion” things with the gears and perhaps maybe a squeezy thing for stress relief. I should also probably get some business suits with shoulder pads to wear about the house and an ear penis (phone headset) justincase someone actually calls me to “talk shop.”

No one actually calls me except people trying to sell me carpet cleaning services.

But I am a Business Person and will be reminding The Daver of that when he asks me to take out the garbage from now on. A sample conversation:

The Daver: “Can you take out the garbage, please?”

Aunt Becky: “I am very busy.”

The Daver: “Doing what? It looks like you’re scratching your crotch with a pen.”

Aunt Becky: “I am a BUSINESS PERSON WHO IS DOING BUSINESS THINGS NOW AND I CAN FILE A BUSINESS PERSON LAWSUIT.”

The Daver: “Shut up and take out the garbage.”

Aunt Becky: “Blow me.”

Marriage is grand, people.

In order to celebrate my incorporation, I’m going to do some Giving Back because really, without you guys, I wouldn’t have done this. It never would have occurred to me that I had a knack to write if you hadn’t encouraged me, and I wouldn’t have continued to pollute the Internet if you hadn’t acted like you liked to read it (also: smooth move).

In other words: you made your monster.

Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to have a contest, and the first thing I’m going to use my Copy on the Rocks bank account for is to happily buy a gift card to Amazon.com for $50. You can win it. You can enter up to three times, three different ways to win it. Contest will end next Friday at midnight CST.

1) Go to Savvy Source and join my group, Aunt Becky’s Band of Merry Pranksters. Then, start a discussion about what you love about the blogging community. You can even use your Facebook ID to join. Couldn’t be easier. Then leave me a comment here saying that you did #1 (if you’re already in my group, go forth and participate.)

2) Leave a comment here where you talk about your favorite blogs. Hell, pimp YOURSELF out. I want to know why you love what you love. What makes a blog good?

3) It’s Interview With Aunt Becky time! Answer my questions on your own blog, grab my button, and come back, leave a comment and let me know that you did the Interview. IF you do not have a blog, feel free the interview in the comments.

1) Dave and I have a long-standing feud over cheese in a can. He thinks it’s food of The Gods while I think it’s probably Of The Devil. Your take?

2) Is there any way you can think of to make the elder Gosselins go away? I AM ALL EARS.

3) Who is your ridiculous “I can’t admit this to anyone in polite company lest I be banned from life” crush?

4) If you could fuck it all and pursue your dream (assuming, of course, you were going to be GOOD at it), what would that dream be?

5) They say “living well is the best revenge.” I think they are wrong. Do you?

6) What is the most humiliation you’ve experienced in public that you’d be willing to admit to The Internet?

7) Are you honest with The Internet? Like, if I came over to your house tonight (heh)(I’m coming over, yo)(heh) would I be surprised at who I found?

8 ) If you could have one talent that you don’t currently possess, what would it be?

9) There’s not always room for Jello. Is there?

10) What’s your guiltiest of the guilty pleasures?

<a href="https://mommywantsvodka.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/hellsyesbutton.jpg"><img src="https://mommywantsvodka.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/hellsyesbutton.jpg"></a>

P.S. Thank you to everyone who nominated me for a Bloggie. Seriously, that’s the best thing ever and I might have cried. SHUT UP.

Apparently I am the last person on the planet to realize that 2010 = the next DECADE. Okay, so I never claimed to be a particularly bright person, but this takes the cake for even me. Especially since I turn 30 in July and I was born in 1980 and…yeah, I should have seen the BIGGER PICTURE, but apparently I was too deeply ensconced in my nervous breakdown to see out of my butthole.

I’m not much of a New Year’s person, so I suppose it’s not entirely shocking that I wasn’t all HOLY FUCK, PEOPLE!

Anyway.

New Decade, New Aunt Becky abounds which makes me think that I should get some Moon Boots and a flying car. Because obviously.

I’ve been giving a lot of thought to dragging myself back out from under the piles tiny fucking Playmobil pieces and I’ve been making steps in that direction. When I do something, I tend to go balls to the wall, which is why an itemized list of resolutions isn’t really necessary. Plus, even as neurotic as I am, I hate making lists almost as much as I hate cream based condiments *shudders* but I’m making myself accountable.

To you. The Internet.

Ima check in now and again just to let you know how I’m doing in my progress to reclaim myself. You can let ME know what YOU’RE doing or how you think I can do better, or shit, you can just fucking tell me how awesome you are in the comments.

(Because you guys are full of the awesome. You were so nice to my formula-feeding friend–the Go Ask Aunt Becky questions all come in anonymously–yesterday and I was so grateful because she doesn’t need anyone to attack her when she’s feeling low. Also, have you lost weight? Your ass looks HOT in those pants. Let’s make out.)

1) First, I bought an elliptical. I know, I KNOW, it sounds like a BAD IDEA because it’s one of those things that you can easily ignore and use as a clothes hanger and what better to remind you of your failures? But this one was effing cheap and time is kinda precious right now. So ANYTHING is better than nothing.

Ima get my ass on it as soon as I can wear a bra lest I knock myself out with a rogue boobie.

2) I bought more clothes. I’d all but stopped buying clothes when I realized how depressing it was to do it because, well, I’m still rocking the baby weight. The elliptical will help that. But new clothes help me feel better about myself, which will make me feel EVEN BETTER about myself and so on and so on.

3) I started listening to music again. Because I’m home with the kids so much, I’d stopped jamming out with my clam out to things that made me happy because if any of them get a whiff of music coming from my computer, they’re all over me to watch stuff on my computer. Which, hi, TOTALLY NOT MY THING.

I do important stuffs here like surf porn and write on my blog, not watch CARTOONS (for the record, I hate cartoons).

But I love music. It’s one of the things I love dearly and since I stopped commuting every-fucking-where it’s something I stopped doing: humping on my music. Music makes me Aunt Becky again and it makes me feel alive.

4) I’m going out to California next weekend with The Daver even though we couldn’t find anyone in my family to watch my kids. There’s a certain baby shower that I’m pretty stoked to go to and to miss that would be like gnawing off an arm, but getting anyone to watch my kids is always like pinning Jello to a wall.

I know they have sitter sites out there, but I’m not entirely comfortable leaving my kids overnight with someone I don’t know. By the grace of God, my friend from high school is going to do it for me and I owe her SO MUCH.

5) I’m back to looking for places to submit my work (let’s agree that “work” here is a very loose term) and expand My Empire.

Most importantly, I’m allowing myself the opportunity to make progress without expecting perfection. I tend to expect things from myself that no one really should expect of themselves and I’m going to stop.

————-

I may never own Moon Boots, because maybe I DID own them when I was a kid and maybe they weren’t NEARLY as cool as I thought they’d be. But slowly, I’m digging myself out of the hole I’ve sunk into and rediscovering who I am. Turns out, I’m the same person I always was.

Progress, not perfection. Unless I’m listening to Britney. Which is total perfection.

——————–

And if you’re looking for me elsewhere, I’m talking about the time I got courted by (no shit)(seriously, why would I lie?) Wife Swap.

Over at Skirt! this is the link to the post I threw up yesterday (Sunday = The Internet is closed) about Finding Myself Among The Dirty Diapers.

Proving that I am a creature of habit, I couldn’t let the year end without completely my one and only meme. For past experiences, go here: 2008 here, 2007 here, 2006 here. The rest I believe have been lost somewhere. Probably for the better, eh?

1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?

I got myself a daughter, I watched my daughter go under the knife and defy all odds while I’ve struggled with some serious PTSD.

I’ve sent my second book proposal out with my agents and decided to incorporate and expand my freelancing career.

2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I’ve decided that I’ve put my own life on hold for long enough and that 2010 will be the year that I bring Aunt Becky back. Period. What that means is sort a nebulous “eh.” A constellation of things I’ll do.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Yes. I had a baby. So did a lot of people that I love.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

Yes.

5. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?

An Empire and a discernible waistline.

6. What countries did you visit?

Unless you count my head, none.

7. What date from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why:

January 28, my daughter’s birthday. February 26, the day she had her surgery to fix her neural tube defect.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

I’ve successfully decided what I want to be when I grow up. An heiress.

9. What was your biggest failure?

I clogged the kitchen sink.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Shockingly, few.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

My iPhone is pretty fucking awesome.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

I’d have to go with Mimi’s, who kicked BRAIN SURGERY in the balls. I mean, how much cooler can you be?

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

Okay, this one I can’t answer because it’s mean. If I answer it honestly, I’ll get bitches on my back, and if I don’t, I mean, okay, let’s go with, uh, OH LOOK A CUDDLY KITTY!

14. Where did most of your money go?

Diapers and pink frilly things.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

I got excited when I figured out what the hell I was going to do with the rest of my life.

16. What song will always remind you of 2009?

Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”

(if you haven’t heard it, you really, REALLY should give it a listen. It’s gorgeous)

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

i. happier or sadder? Happier. Much.

ii. thinner or fatter? Thinner.

iii. richer or poorer? Richer.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Noming on baby toes.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Crying. Because I am very ugly when I cry and I pour buckets of boogies out of my head and really, you’re welcome for that mental picture.

20. How will you be spending Christmas?

This is awkward. Christmas is over, Meme. Perhaps you should GET WITH THE PROGRAM.

21. There was no #21. I don’t know why there was no 21.

I’ll make up my own question here, then. Hmmm.

Name one random thing that people would be surprised to know about you.

I am a (former) concert cellist. I know. Who the fuck knew?

22. Did you fall in love in 2009?

Only with myself.

23. How many one-night stands?

If you could my Husbands From Television, probably like 4,129.

24. What was your favorite TV program?

Glee! And House! And Dexter! And…uh. What else?

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

This seems awfully loaded, doesn’t it? I’m going to go with yes. And then, no.

26. What was the best book you read?

US Weekly.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Glee! I’m a sucker for pop music and a capella groups.

28. What did you want and get?

A direction in life. Also, Hello Kitty Sushi!

30. What was your favorite film of this year?

Pan’s Labyrinth. I’m saying this because I seriously cannot remember seeing a movie this year.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 29 this year. I celebrated by… *scratches head*

……

Apparently it was very exciting. So exciting that I can’t remember.

OH WAIT. THAT’S RIGHT. I bought myself a vibrator. That’s really boring. And of course, it’s a crappy vibrator because I cheaped out on it. BAD CALL.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

More cowbell. Definitely more cowbell.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?

*sniff, sniff* IS THIS CLEAN? *sniff, sniff* CLOSE ENOUGH.

34. What kept you sane?

My Internet. Thank you, my friends.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

I dunno. I normally answer with Britney Spears, and I guess that’s probably my answer again.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?

Shaken or stirred? GET IT? Bwahahahaha! I don’t go political. You should KNOW that, Meme, because we’ve been together since 2005. Which, CREEPY.

37. Whom did you miss?

I still miss my friend Stef, who died in 2007, every. single. day.

38. Who was the best new person you met?

My cadre of Virtual Internet Pimps.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009:

When someone tells you that you can’t do something, the very best thing to do is to prove them gleefully wrong.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:

“I did my best, it wasn’t much
I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch
I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah”

–Leonard Cohen, “Hallelujah”

So the rest of the meme calls for tagging, which I don’t do because I’m not A List person, so rather than tag you, I’m going to tag YOU to answer this meme on your blog OR in the comments.

“Now my friends are wearing worried smiles, living out a dream of what they was.

Don’t you think it’s sometimes wise not to grow up?”

–Rolling Stones, 100 Years Ago

In terms of blogging years, I’m practically a geriatric and I often have to stop myself from being all “IN MY DAY, BLOGGERS WERE HONEST AND DIDN’T EXPECT…” so I can safely say things like, “normally in my New Years wrap-up posts I say something about how happy I am to kiss the year goodbye” because I’ve had enough of them to choose from.

This morning, I sat here trying to figure out what I wanted to do for my New Years post because it felt weird to not mention that today is the last day of 2009. Normally I do the only meme that I ever do, but today it just didn’t feel right. Then I thought about doing a year-in-review-through-posts and that didn’t sum it all up either because seriously? January and February alone could have each had 10 or so links to posts.

So instead, I’m going to be uncharacteristically honest about my year.

2009 was not the worst year of my life. I don’t know how a year that started by bringing my last child, my daughter Amelia Grace Sherrick Harks, into this world could possibly be a bad one. I was so proud to finally have a daughter and nearly a year later, I am still so proud to have a daughter that even as I type this, my eyes fill with tears.

She was born with an undiagnosed neural tube defect, yes, an encephalocele and I very much feared that I’d birthed her only to send her in for neurosurgery to sacrifice her on the operating table, but would I have traded those three weeks with her? No. Even if she’d passed, I wouldn’t have traded those minutes with her. She’s my daughter.

Amelia, all 8 pounds of her didn’t pass on the table and she’s gone on to beat all of the odds of her grim diagnosis and has proved to me that just because someone tells you that you shouldn’t be able to do something, doesn’t mean that you can’t. It’s a lesson we all could stand to remember now and again.

While Amelia has thrived and continued to place at or above level for every single test that she’s been given, I’ve sort of managed to tread water this year managing to keep my head mostly above water. Lately, I’ve been drinking gasoline to keep warm.

I’m not sure it’s working.

I was diagnosed with PTSD stemming from her traumatic birth and I don’t know if it’s that, or PPD or some other weird acronym, but I’m not sleeping well or eating well, and some nights I manage fight off the demons and others, I’m slain by them.

But I’m hopeful. I’ve been here before and I’ve always managed to claw my way back out of the hole and into the light again.

So I approach 2010 full of renewed hope for the future, because no matter how full of the darkness I feel, I can feel the light on my face and I know it’s all around me. Soon it will be within me.

I am hopeful.

I have hope.

Happy New Year.

Besides, “how does Dave put up with you*?” and “would you describe yourself as more achingly or hauntingly beautiful**?” people are always interested to know why the fuck I call myself Aunt Becky.

Because I am Your Aunt Becky. I adopted you. Sorry about that. The upside is, the Internet is a large place and it’s entirely likely that I WON’T show up on your doorstep on Thanksgiving in a festive Christmas Sweater, reeking of vodka and vomit, demanding that you cook me some motherfucking stuffing because I have other nieces and nephews to annoy. The downside is that I might.

There’s plenty of Aunt Becky to go around.

But I wasn’t ALWAYS Aunt Becky. Before I was Aunt Becky, I was Stimpy on my old blog, Mushroom Printing, when I could remember to be all cloak-and-daggery about my name. Pashmina, who I talk about here as my college roommate and the person I humiliated with the Butt Sex Check, was Ren.

When I moved here, I was just Becky. Because it’s my name and it’s full of The Awesome the way it lilts off the tongue, you know? Anyway.

Proving my theory that people with half a brain can pick any-fucking-thing to be incensed about, one day I was commenting on a friend’s blog and I saw someone else named Becky. Well, I thought to myself. Her parents were obviously very smart for naming her that. She must be a rocket scientist with a name like that!

Skimming the comment left by my new friend–I already had our slumber parties planned out because we just HAD to be friends–I sighed when I realized that she couldn’t spell to save herself and her grammar appeared to have been pecked out by a blind mole rat, but I decided that in the name of our friendship, I’d forage onward!

Several days later, revisiting the blog of our mutual friend, I happily checked the comments to see if my new BFF had commented, eager to see if she’d seen that she had a friend in me! I was shocked to note that where the space for “name” had been previous filled with “Becky” it now said “THE REAL BECKY” and the comment made hideous references to an IMPOSTOR BECKY.

Then she had the audacity to make some snide remarks about me and the “cussing” on my blog and how tasteless I was!

Oh HELL NO Becky, oh HELL NO you didn’t. For your information, I do not “cuss,” I fucking swear. I will be put down by someone who can spell without the aid of a spell checker, and I will happily correct my own grammar with a motherfucking SMILE on my motherfucking face when it’s pointed out tactfully to me, but I will NOT be put in my place by someone who accuses me of PRETENDING to be some toothless mouth-breathing, knuckle-dragging, slack-jawed yokel who happens to go by the 22nd most popular name of 1980. The year I was born.

Fucking bitch probably collected Precious Moments dolls.

Like I’d MAKE UP MY NAME OR SOMETHING.

What, you want proof or something?

No, I am not cross-eyed. It’s the water damage distorting the view of my AWESOMENESS. And no, no one had just threatened to kill me if I smiled. SHOCKING.

Maybe I was just remembering my earlier years. Like this one:

When my parents had BRUTALLY made me pose in front of a bear like that. Look at the mock terror on my toddler face!

Or maybe I was thinking about this:

The time when I was left with the creepy guy who I wanted to get away from.

(he was actually my dad, and I was TRYING to get into the greenhouse)

Anyway.

So, I figured that I’d have a couple of different personas for my blog and change them around depending on my mood. I’d be Smoove B one day, Aunt Becky for a week and The Notorious BEX the next. Sometimes, I’d just be Becky, As Herself. Or Becky, In Real Life.

Well, guess which one stuck? (hint: it’s not The Daver) Can’t be all bad. Especially since it means that I’ll never have to cook for the holidays ever again.

Are you a nickname person on The Internet? Do you go by something else on your blog other than your real name? How did you come up with your nickname? Also, should I cock-punch The Other Becky***?

—————

*Bad karma in a past life OBVIOUSLY

*Why have OR when you can have AND?

***I swear on all that I am that I am not lying. If I could find the blog, I’d show you the comment but I never went back because I knew my head would explode.

My attempts to break into the artistic field included a rather pathetically rendered Easter Egg coloring contest that I was told that “I won” only to then be told when I went to claim my prize “WHOOPS, PSYCH! You didn’t!” and something I liked to call “donuts floating in pee” during my high school years (it was a still life). I may have many talents, like be able to properly blow spit bubbles, but being artistic is not one of them.

So, when I couldn’t find the proper phoenix tattoo years ago, I gave up and waited until I could. I certainly wasn’t going to draw it and because I really didn’t know what I wanted, I didn’t know anyone else who could do what I wanted, either. Last I checked, artists weren’t really mind readers.

Imagine my shock when I lazily googled “phoenix” last week, and this popped up (I can’t manage to resize it, sorry):

What makes it weird is that my old design, Notepad Chaos, was based on this design, from Web Designer Wall, which was created by Nick La, who made this design. It seems an odd bit of synchronicity to me. The Internet is a big place and to randomly come across this is just…

Anyway.

My friend, WhyIsDaddyCryin on Twitter recommended a local tattoo artist in Chicago who normally books out 3 months in advance who just happened to have an appointment on Sunday available. Trust me, I was more excited about this than I was about Christmas. Probably because it didn’t involve tearing apart more fucking twist ties and I could sit still without having to get anyone anything for more than 5 minutes at a time.

This is Step 1.

No, I am not that yellow.

See, I’m much more pasty than yellow.

My phoenix. I couldn’t be any happier if it were all done and I wasn’t in pain.

It took an hour and a half of sitting in really odd positions to get this done and it goes most of the way down my back which is MUCH BIGGER than I’d figured that I’d get. But it looks fabulous. Only now I’m all, it needs to have something on the OTHER SIDE to balance it out. What, I don’t know, but something.

And honestly, after the foot tattoo, the pain of this was nothing. Some areas were sensitivER than others but I never wept and I never had to have her stop because I couldn’t tolerate it for another second. Weeping in front of tattoo people is pretty embarrassing even if the tears are just kind of leaking out because, you know, how hardcore can you look when you’re CRYING?

I’m going back in 4 weeks on January 26 (because I know you’ll all want to stalk my ass) to get the color done–all vibrant colors, are you surprised?–and I’m pumped. The tattoo is AMAZING and better than I could have imagined.

I’m in some pain today, especially since it’s January and I can barely wear clothes, but that’s okay. I’ll lovingly caress my Vicodin bottle with my tongue as I tell you my OTHER secret. I got a job blogging for yet ANOTHER site.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to try and find some position to sit in that doesn’t cause me excruciating pain and make out with my Tylenol bottle.

I didn’t get tattoos to rebel against my mother, who hates them with a passion normally reserved for Rush Limbaugh and canned gravy, but I got them because I needed a way to remind myself of the things that are important. Not, as you might imagine, “PANTS FIRST, THEN SHOES,” which might have saved me a ton of hassle and confusion over the years, but more important things*.

Deeper things.

I’ll keep it rather brief, since I think I’ve gone into more painfully boring detail before.

This is my seahorse, and it’s on my foot as you can see by my AWESOME pedicure. I could have cropped out my toes which I did in THIS POST, where I went into more graphic detail about the meaning of this one. Basically, it’s there to remind me that I can function JUST FINE on my own.

My first tattoo is this:

Also captured here (and why I chose this very crappy picture) is my fucking SWEET ASS phone. You wish it was yours, DON’T LIE. Anyway, this one has a really long story behind it and it’s not just because “I like Southwestern Stuff!!”

Pretty much, it’s on my foot to remind me that no matter what happens, I need to be true to myself. I’ve learned this one the hard way over and over again and now, well, it’s a permanent fixture on my person.

Foot tattoos, while they hurt like a mother-fucker are Full of The Awesome because when the need arises, you can simply pop a sock on and tattoos are covered! Insta-respectability! Like real estate it’s all about location, location, location. Plus, it was the one place that I figured wouldn’t get ridiculously fat when I had a baby.

While an excellent THEORY, that was shot to shit as Amelia’s late pregnancy turned my lower body into that of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. I’d have laughed, had it not hurt so much to wear shoes in the dead of winter.

Anyway.

I’ve been eyeballing a new tattoo for awhile and by “eyeballing” I mean, languidly saying to myself, “I’m going to get a new tattoo someday” while I poured another diet Coke and forgot to parent my children.

What I thought was so awesome was that two of you rifled through my brain yesterday and guessed what I was going to get: a phoenix. Problem was, any time I googled “phoenix pictures” the results that I got were very distinctly un-Aunt Becky-ish.

Yesterday, I revisited the idea because OBVIOUSLY and imagine my surprise when THIS popped up:

(credit goes to Web Designer Wall, who has BAR NONE, the coolest fucking designs.)

It’s a phoenix. A colorful phoenix being reborn, not out of fire, it appears, but air. And that’s it. It’s what I want. I’ll tone down some of the intricate designs because that’s WAY too big for the space I need it, but that’s what I’m getting.

I figured out where to put it as well. The ball of my shoulder, spreading around to the front and back a bit. It’s a perfect compromise for me, because I can cover it up and let it show. I can’t wait. And by “can’t wait” I mean that I’m alternating between being crapping my pants and jumping around like a damn fool.

Which, I mean, what the hell else is new?

So, tattoos, o! Internet, my Internet! What do you think of them? Oh! And I discuss Christmas Balling over at Toy With Me today! It’s pretty awesome, mainly because I wrote it.

*like there is ANYTHING more important than the placement of pants. Heh.

Last year, I sat on my couch wearing an ass groove into the cushions and going through the motions of the holidays while counting down the moments until it was all done. The only reason that I didn’t stay in bed entirely was because I had small children to care for and, well, they don’t give a shit how miserable and depressed you are, which is kind of the beauty of kids.

It was really out of the norm for me, someone who normally celebrates the magic of the season like a small annoying child, but I was very, very pregnant and on the tail end of a shit year. My friend had died in February, I’d suffered two miscarriages in April and May and while I’d gotten pregnant again in June, it seemed sort of uncertain for awhile.

August through October brought about The Daver’s Nervous Breakdown where he could barely get out of bed, which left me wondering how the hell I was going to support our family without selling pictures of my pregnant self for cash. By December, I was just done. I felt like a heaping pile of dog ass that peed herself when she moved, and really, there was no Christmas spirit to be had by me. I’d weep onto the top of Alex’s head as I rocked him to sleep at night, while my daughter kicked him from within and I’d wonder what I was going to do.

Obviously, January didn’t bring much better news. My daughter was born so sick and even after her surgery, things were so scary for so long. It took me so long to recover from all of that.

What’s shocking to me as I read back through the archives is that there’s not a whole lot of mention of this. Likely, I didn’t know quite what TO say, so I simply said nothing. Because I had no real concrete reasons to focus on and work through to be able to say “Hey Internet RIGHT THERE is why I’m so miserable” I just said nothing.

The skies didn’t really start to clear up for me until a couple of months ago when the PPD and the PTSD and all of those other fancy acronyms began to fade somewhat and in their place I realized what I had to do.

In all of these years, I’ve raised my crotch parasites and pushed them from my nether regions and paced and rocked and bounced and swaddled. And I’ve Wifed, by pushing Dave to succeed at a job that really, he does love and encouraged and listened and pretended to understand when he spoke in what may have been ancient Finnish and keeping the house running and organized and somewhat clean.

But what I’ve neglected all of this time was me.

Your Aunt Becky has been missing from this equation and this life. In all of the time that I’ve been Becky, Wifey of The Daver and Moooooommmmmyyyy of Benner, Alex (not Alexander–his declaration, not mine) and Mimi, Your Aunt Becky has been sorely neglected.

When I realized what I was going to do with the rest of my life–freelance, for those of you not playing along at home–or at least until I decide to actually inhabit my new house and become Lady of the House (Princess Grace Of Monaco) it was like I was finally seeing things as they are for the first time in years. I can be all of those things to my family and Your Aunt Becky too.

So this year, while my house is only haphazardly decorated for the holidays, it’s for a very different reason. I’m busily throwing myself into doing something for myself. Like my homie Pashmina has suggested, 2010 is going to be the year of ME (although, I think she means that it’s going to be the year of HER, because if she was taking a whole year to celebrate ME, well, I think that would be so awesome that I don’t even know how I would handle that. HEY PASHMINA, CELEBRATE ME! And, uh, BUY ME STUFF.).

2010 is going to be the year Aunt Becky Gets Her Groove Back. And hopefully, her fucking figure too.

I’m not sure how I’m going to keep you guys informed of what other projects I’m doing without ramming it down your throats, so any suggestions are appreciated. Maybe links at the bottom of posts like I do with my Toy With Me columns?

In that vein, I’ve started this: my boring professional website. It’s not done. OBVIOUSLY. It’s lopsided, but the picture plug-in is busted and I need The Daver to fix it. I’ve got some other things that I’m getting started on, but so far, nothing that I’m actually able to be all LOOKIT INTERNET, SEE WHAT I DID?

And come January, I’m going to incorporate and form a small company that will likely generate about $1 in income all year long. But because I need to keep my dollar separate from DAVE’S dollars, I need a company. Which means that I need a name. For a company. I’ll probably GO BY “Mommy Wants Vodka” but on the paperwork, I need something more professional.

All I’ve got so far is “Vodka Bandits.”

Halp me.

Also, how do YOU keep your groove, The Internet?