Oh lest ye should think I wrote a few times and gave this shit up again... I am here to prove you wrong. WRONG I say! But I would like to point out that this week has been mayhaps one of my craziest and I am fried. (It IS 4/20, but it is not at all in a good way.) So Ima just spit some shit out and we'll see where it goes.
1. We've had appointments every damn day for the last week and a half, Maximus and I. I am still cursing the irritatingly-beautiful-unfrumpy-dermatologist, but moving on... next came the midwife on Monday. The Hubs and I have decided to wait to find out the sex of this next wee babe. I have to say, that'll be exciting in the delivery room, but for right now... it sucks. Let's face it, and pardon me while I whine... this is the 5th baby... nobody cares. Well, they care. *I* care. But you don't hear the "squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!" or the "oooohs" and "aaaaaaaaaahs" like with the first baby, or perhaps the second. Frankly, people may just think it is odd-er when I'm NOT pregnant. (Aww. Look at me, I'm trying to make my own jokes about it.) But there's also no planning. I've got boy stuff. I've got some girl stuff. Bam. Done. I am as prepared at 18 weeks (or 19? 20? see what I mean? I can't remember.) ...as I will be at 40. I'm on a quest to figure out a way to make it more exciting... like Santy Claus coming or something. I dunno... not knowing the sex... it's interesting. Throw some ideas at me.
2. Moving on through appointments... we had our first Occupational Therapy appointment this week. I will tell you this, it should make my fried feelings a bit clearer: in the middle of the appointment, the therapist asked if *I* was okay to go on. I guess I had been sitting in the corner of my living room making some pretty twisted awkward faces. We have the Dr. House of OTs. Don't get me wrong, I totally appreciate it... but its not always easy to watch. She was out to show Max just who the alpha-dog is. Whenever he'd cry (oh... 85% of the visit) she'd throw him on the balance ball, work him out and declare, "THERE IS NO CRYING IN THERAPY!" (Is it wrong that as shattered as I was to watch my baby get so distraught, some part of me was giggling on the inside and repeating, "There is no crying in baseball!"? ...I think I'm sick.) Anyway, Dr. House was wonderful and I feel we're on the right road... it's just not at all pleasant.
3. Here's one for you. A priest walks into a bar...
No, no, no... how's about... a frazzled, frumpy woman who is distraught over the fact that the nursery volunteer did NOT show up again to church, walks up to the priest at communion time. (This woman is me, did you catch that??) All my duckies follow in their row. Daddy is the caboose. Before blessing each 'blessing' and handing me communion, the priest says in a booming voice (this is in front of the church), "How DOES this HAPPEN!?" oh, you funny, funny man. I giggled and said, "Ha! Ha! I just don't know! Ha!" Of course, I fall asleep at night developing new answers... I usually come back to, "Wouldn't YOU like to know. Ha!" See. I am safe no where. Not even a Catholic church. I will have to get over this one and become a friendly person again.
4. My babymama texted me a million times Wednesday night. Don't get me wrong, we have a pretty good relationship and I like her fine... it was just dinner time... by myself... with all the minions, a guinea pig and a dog. Caleb was at his track meet and vying for a place at district. I'm excited for the guy, but when Lola gets hungry... all hell breaks loose. I was starting to get irritated when she texts, "long jump: 8ft 1 in. 1st place. We're going to district!" I did one of those only-in-the-movies double takes. I set my phone down and picked it right back up again. What the what??? The next day the kids and I taped that shit out on the floor. (home school math, right... right?!) Damn is all I can say. That booger jumped 8 FEET 1 INCH. I'm proud. Daddy's going to go watch our little Olympian this weekend at district. (its so obvious I didn't birth him. My stumpy self probably couldn't jump a foot... and by the time you have a few babies... well... nobody wants me to try, I am sure.)
5. Something rare has happened tonight. As rare as a big foot sighting. Nay, the McRib! I am home alone... well, with 75% of the babies. This. feels. weird. My Cooper has joined the Scouts. He has jumped in with both feet. I'm just not used to such enthusiasm from the kid. Not that he doesn't get enthused... it's just that he doesn't always let us see it... out in the open. Anyway, he and The Hubs are at his very first campout. I am hoping nothing weird happens to take away his enthusiasm. And yes, I know that kids have to go through stuff... it's part of the learning... but just not tonight! I am so excited for him. And as everyone's first question is always (gulp) 'WHAT ABOUT SOCIALIZATION?!?!" when it comes to home schooling, I am super-duper psyched that he is making new little friends. (I am also crazy psyched that next time someone asks me about the 'S word', I can say, "BAM. Boy Scouts, bitches. done and done." ...only I'll be nicer... maybe.)
So there you have it. I'm gonna eat this night up. Live out loud!! Be wild!! Ima paint my toes... and... and... eat cereal in bed... and... and... watch crappy basic cable television all night! (Is 'What Would You Do?' really our best option for Friday night television, America?? Am I the only one with John-Quinones-Anxiety, fearing that guy is going to jump out of every awkward public situation in my life??)
And then in the morning I will be so ready for everybody to be back home.
Happy Weekend, ya'll.
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