first of all, the calendar change as got me buggin’. when did april become such a short month? thirty days only? are we sure about this? i feel like it should have at least 45 days in it. right? it doesn’t help that ruth has a classroom-sized calendar plastered across one entire wall that bears down on me all day every time i pass it. i can feel its eyes on my back like a heat lamp. ok, it doesn’t have eyes, but if it did…you can bet there would be a taunting gleam in them, just for me. and closer to the bottom of the month, the numbers seem to pop out and present themselves, seeing as i will technically be full term around the last week or so of the month. he could very well be born in april. one of those days could be the day.
secondly, ruth insists upon wearing her “sparkly tights” every single day. if they are in the laundry pile, which they inevitably are, crusted with paint, the knees and feet brown from dust and dirt, crayola marker lines in every color of the rainbow, she asks if they are done over and over until they are back in her possession. am i happy about this? i dunno. there is a part of me that screams, “no!” when she says she wants to wear her sparkly tights, her skirt and her “wedding shoes” because she’s gonna be all pretty. then, there is that part that loves it, loves to see her in cute girl clothes. damn me. where did she pick up this affinity for tights and dresses? pretty much everywhere and nowhere specifically. little social sponge, gleaning the essence of existence like nectar from all around her.
greg and i are seriously debating a name change. for joel. i won’t say what, but just be prepared. we can be quite indecisive at times.
how the fudge did we acquire so much goddamn easter candy? we have an entire reusable shopping bag full. and it’s good shit. why is everyone determined to sabotage my best efforts not to have a giant monster baby? (i was advised by a midwife to avoid processed sugar after 33 weeks because that’s when they gain most of their weight). joel, just suck it in on your way out, mmmkay? do mommy a favor and spare my poor va-jay-jay the trauma of pushing out a nine-pounder or something like that…
now, if you’ll excuse me, i need to toss ruth’s sparkly tights in the wash so they are fresh for her in a couple hours. april, you’d better drag by, hear me?