Kindergarten. Starting in August my daughter will be an official member of the Kindergarten association. I'm assuming she'll get a badge and some sort of weapon to wield in the hallway in case the "big kids" try to throw their weight around or steal her pudding cup at lunch.
I don't remember kindergarten. Except for the naps and snacks, so maybe I'm suppressing some horrible memory. I think she's ready. I think I'm ready.
More on this subject after orientation day in a few weeks.
Also, I miss getting mail that doesn't come in an envelope with a see through window. Or have "urgent" stamped somewhere on the front. I'd really love a letter. Wouldn't you?
I caught Cadence chewing on a cupcake wrapper the other night. I laughed until I peed. By the time I figured out that she was hiding behind the kitchen island ten minutes after devouring the cup's actual cake - it had been masticated into a tiny pink wad which resembled a piece of ABC gum.
me: are you crazy?
she: it's sooooo gooood
me: (tears and pee)
Best ending to a Tuesday night I can think of.
Wednesday night I stood in the shower for twenty minutes. I washed my hair, read the ingredients on the back of all the bottles in the shower caddy, and then made promises to my razor I probably won't own up to for a few months.
Oh, and I cried. And fantasized about running again. Not that I ever was an avid runner, but because I felt like I really needed to run, but I couldn't. Kind of like the bike thing.
My husband tried so hard to "fix it" and do whatever he could to make me feel better, but I guess I was doing exactly what I was supposed to- drowning in the shower and sobbing- because when I got done I was so much better.
It's the worst part about pregnancy, if you ask me. The sore feet, tired back and umpteen trips to the bathroom don't rank nearly as high on the gall-scale as the emotional crud-puddle I'm dragging my husband and daughter through these days.
Sorry, family. It will all be over soon.
And then we can stick to crying for really good reasons. Like before.
My husband picked out our new baby monitor. It has lights, sound, an antenna and A/C adapter. Oh. And chrome. And the number 900 on the front. It kinda looks like it could "take off" if it so decided to. Good pick, honey. Now that I've made a conscious decision not to worry about the Swine Flu... I can start being concerned about making contact with inhabitants of other galaxies through our baby monitoring "system".
Take me to your leader.
Rest In Peace, Megs
1 day ago