And y'all know I'm thrilled to welcome another member into the family sorority. I know it's a major disappointment to the Mr. Twinkle family--my inlaws came to pick up the girls to take them swimming this afternoon, and my MIL did not even bother to say, "Congratulations." It's OK. I don't need her congratulations--the prospect of being the mother-of-the-bride at not one, not two, but three weddings and not having to worry about some b*tch coming along to steal my baby boy away is congratulations enough. (Just teasing on that...y'all know I was excited at the prospect of welcoming a new daughter-in-law into the fold and treating her with the kindness I have never received from my own MIL). But it was not to be. Instead I get fashion advice (wanted or otherwise), great presents, spa weekends, and cocktail hours when everyone comes home from college. Y'all are invited.
So anyway, MIL couldn't bring herself to congratulate me (FIL did, which I appreciated, even though it is his ancestral name that won't be passed down to the next generation). I'm sure if she could, she'd have me beheaded, but whatever. I'm over it.
All she could talk about was my sister-in-law's old trundle bed from the '80s. It's a white, block-shaped, soul-sucking, pressed plastic monstrosity, about 2 feet off the ground with a trundle under it. I think I blocked out the details on it, but whenever it was in SIL's room (before she got married and they put a double bed in there) it was so ugly I did not even want to be in there with it. It was sad. Pathetic. Sinful. The memory of [it] is grievous unto me; the burden of [it] is intolerable. (There's a little Episcopal liturgy for you).
So she is trying to push this sad '80s trundle bed off on me. Has she been to my house? Has she seen that I have this wallpaper in my girls' bathroom? Has she noticed that I'm raising my daughters to have good taste? Well, it starts with cute bedroom furniture, and while I love antiques and family heirlooms, I do have standards and I approve and edit all furniture and accessories that come through this door. As someone who ordered this bed for Twinklette, and then painted it a darling shade of pink, I am not about to put some tacky '80s trundle bed in my house. I mean, it wouldn't be quite fair to Tiny T to give her an ugly bed, and I feel confident that Twinklette would know the bed was ugly and wouldn't want it anywhere near her bedroom.
Here's the plan: I'm ordering the same bed Twinklette has for Tiny T, painting it pink, and ordering the coordinating trundles for both beds so that new baby sister can camp out in there when she's older if she wants to, and there will still be room for the occasional friend. It's fair to both inhabitants of the room, the decor will remain adorable, and everyone's happy except my MIL. And if I cared about making her happy, I would have had a boy.
If someone has to take this damn trundle bed, why can't my SIL take it? She's shopping for a big girl bed for her daughter, and I don't hear anyone pushing off the ugly *ss bed on her. MIL actually went bed shopping with her while we were all up in New England a few weeks ago. I bet those two will pick the ugliest damn bed in Connecticut--and that'll be hard to do, because everything there is cute. They'll find a way, though; they always do.
Guess what: I've got a bunch of daughters and I'm bringing them up with good taste. The tackiness cycle stops with me!
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