So, back up - let's see where were we?
The baby is three months old. The oldest is 8 years old. And I have a catch in my get-along. Not really. But these shoes make my feet reek if you really must know. We're talking pile-drive to the nose. I do not know what on earth I ever did to the thing that died on the assembly line of the shoe plant in China, but they really should be treated with hazmat precision. Whatever it was died a slow, painful death. In China. And that's just no way to go. I hear it's pretty dirty over there. But really, who wants to die? I can't honestly think it would be a fun experience. But it is part of life. Nobody can stay alive forever. Except for my children. They had better. But the disgusting, demonic, probable animal-byproduct lacing the inserts of the shoes I have on really wants to haunt someone from the grave apparently. I wash my feet, okay?! This cannot be my fault. It simply can't. Lever 2000. It's not to blame. And neither is China. But what dies in China should stay in China.
Moving on.
We had a party for my son. We rented a limo, invited 8 friends, but had to keep it a secret from all of them. My son and his friend's parents were in cahoots with us; and the whole idea was to show up in pjs the morning of the party to either wake or simply surprise each of the guests, whisk each of them away to have breakfast at Pop's... a funky gas station with hundreds of different kinds of pop from all over the world. But by "gas station" I really mean a funky diner that happens to sell gas out front. Anyway, my son actually kept the whole thing a secret. It was my middle stinker who told one of the friends, but somehow the message was turned into a golf-cart ride to IHOP or something like that. And he still didn't know when or what or who else was invited, so the cat stayed in the bag, pretty much. What a blast.
What else? I got to spend the afternoon yesterday with my most wonderful grandmother, GranMary. She took me shopping for my "baby" gift - because it's really me who needs new stuff in her humble opinion. The baby has things to wear once and never again until she's ten. I didn't argue. We had a great time. She wanted to dress me like a giant Easter egg; I said no. She let me have black and gray on my own dime, but we were still able to find things I would wear and she wasted no money. She truly is one of the funniest people ever. I love her so much - and I'm her favorite. But she possesses the ability to make EVERYONE think that. And I'm okay with it... but I know the truth. It's me.
And then today, before our third-for-the-week explosive poop out the diaper and up to the shoulders, we had our typical twice weekly hang-out with my sister-in-law and niece, two of my most favorite people. I truly would be dear friends with my s'inlaw even if she weren't married to my brother... because she gets it. It's kinda like Tuberculosis, but Tuderculosis.
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