Mar
24
1. I had a pelvic exam this morning and the doctor who Took Care of Business was my age or younger. Is it too much to ask that the person who ends up cranking my parts open with the duck-billed instrument of evil and peering where the sun literally does not shine NOT be someone I could have gone to high school with? Of course, this problem is only going to get worse. Soon enough it will be someone I could have baby-sat, then someone I could have birthed.
2. JB has to travel to Asia on business for at least 9 days in April and the current plan is that the children and I will stay with my in-laws in Oregon for this period of time. Hold me.
3. I feel like I should appreciate both anise and Radiohead, and yet I do not.
4. Am I ever going to get a full night’s sleep again? Tell me the truth, now.
5. ALSO, the scale at my doctor’s office clearly has some grievous inaccuracies with regards to my current weight, considering that my home scale displays a number at least 4 pounds lighter. What’s that you say? No, I’m sorry, my $10 bathroom scale CANNOT BE WRONG.
Mar
23
It was beautiful yesterday and JB mowed the grass and rid the yard of dogshit in preparation for egg-hunting today, and of course it’s been raining like the dickens since early this morning.
I managed to wrangle one child into a vaguely Easterish outfit, if “Easterish” can be loosely defined as “free of recent spitup”.
Riley’s egg hunt was relocated indoors, where we hid plastic eggs in various places around the house including the Bring Out Your Dead; I’m Not Dead, I’m Getting Better! plant.
Not pictured in this photo: the unreal moment seconds before when Riley slipped and nearly brained himself on the brick hearth, which certainly would have resulted in a different sort of holiday celebration, one including a panicked trip to the ER and a lively discussion over whose stupid fucking idea it was to put an egg above the fireplace.
His basket included a monster truck but in consideration for Cat I omitted the Easter grass in favor of a shallow bowl full of antifreeze.
JB and I were asked to pose for photos, and we practiced holding the baby in a variety of awkward positions.
I call this one “One Child Frozen By Headlights, One Husband Mostly Hidden by Frozen Child, One Wife Who Appears Disproportionately Larger Than Slumped-Over Husband, One Baby Wondering Why It Seems As Though He Has Been Dressed In Some Sort of Godawful Mommy-Son Matching Outfit, And One Is That a Duck Or a Bunny Or Something Purchased At the Very Last Moment in the Grocery Store Checkout Line?”
Hope you had a fun holiday.
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