February - traditionally not my favorite month of the year. Dreary weather, cabin-fever, cold, tired of my winter wardrobe (more on that in a moment ...).
Add to that Pinky cutting 6-7 teeth in the last two weeks and
It's a concentrated two-fold effort to blow Momma's three amp fuse and keep Zoloft in business.
This morning Pinky smeared syrup in her hair, so I popped her in a bath that was the perfect temperature. Perfect for completely relaxing her bowels, apparently. While I ran out of the bathroom for a minute to put away some laundry in Z's room, she gave her bath toys some ... friends. I had to clean that out, drain the bath, scrub the tub, and redraw that perfect bath. In the meantime, Pinky wriggled down out of my lap, and did a face-plant in the linoleum. Busted her upper lip frenulum. Blood and snot everywhere.
The humorous thing about that is Zesty busted his upper lip frenulum at 10 months. We rushed him to the ER and gave them a good laugh at the paranoid parents. I knew what to do this time; hold a cold wet washrag to her mouth and just let her drool blood all over my t-shirt.
It's such a blessing that I put Mr Lemon's shirt on last night before bed instead of my own.
Let's talk about happier things, shall we? My winter wardrobe perhaps?
In case you've been hiding under a rock or fasting the interweb for the last month (AHEM), you may recall that I'm losing weight. I'm still doing very well, at a total loss of 23 pounds in the last two months. That equals a solid two dress sizes, which further equals all my clothes were hanging off in the most appalling way.
Lucky for me, a friend of mine is also on a weight-loss journey, and she started out at the dress size I am now. She passed on to me soooo many great outfits - I only have to buy shoes in my new size. Because clearly 8 of the 23 pounds I lost were in my feet, and I went from a solid size 10 shoe to oh-no-my-new-black-peep-toe-heels-are-a-9.5-and-slipping-off-with-every-step.
It's very refreshing to be able to step into someone else's closet for awhile. I tend to find a great look and purchase varying colors and textures of basically the same outfit. At the moment, all but 6-7 pieces of clothing in my closet that fit me were chosen by someone else. You should try it sometime. Find a friend who wears the same size and just swap wardrobes for a week.
Segue ...
This sounds so much funnier and lighthearted than it was in real life, but really, you don't want all the details.
But the glossed over version, it is interweb appropriate - Splenda took a resistant, but huge step forward this week - she started riding the bus. I stood out on the corner waiting for her this afternoon, and panicked - what if she didn't get on the bus? What if she decided to call my bluff and waited outside in the freezing rain at the school? I hurriedly dialed the school to console myself that I do indeed have a fully operative heart in my body, and just as the secretary assured me she saw Splenda walking to the bus, it turned the corner. She nonchalantly strolled towards me, trying to hide the relieved smile on her face that said, "It's okay, I'm a big girl, but thanks for looking out for me."
It's the little things, ladies. They are few and far between, nay, even unto SPARSE, but they are there. She does like me.
Someday she might even thank me.
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