I've only got a few minutes.
I'm writing from Missoula, MT where we've been forced to enter the witness protection program.
Naw. Just kidding. I don't even know if Missoula is in Montana.
How cool would that have been? Either that or from a beach in Thailand where my Husband spirited me off for a week (complete with nanny in tow). We're still here- still in central California adjusting to the afterlife heat I'm likely to experience. I mean how much hotter is hell really?
I just haven't been blogging because...
Well, how many posts can I write about pumping and my new found Lady Lumps? (8) Or the post-partum pouch? (13 or as many years as it takes me to lose it.)
I think I have West Nile Virus. Or I'm dehydrated. I'm probably just PMSing, but I've felt like crap for two days and been a Royal Princess Pei-pei. (Princess Pei-pei is what I call our female dog when she's being a female dog. Do I need to spell it out for you? Didn't think so. See how smart you are? So proud.) So yah. I forfeited the Wife of the Year award when I rainchecked his birthday. Nice. I will make it up, I swear.
Husband has his own Facebook, so you could wish him Happy Birthday there. Unless you'd like to leave a comment, in which case it was yesterday. He's another year older. Unless you ask Scrunch- she'll tell you "he's two years old." To which he replies, "That's how old all boys act." It's very cute this "Avoid Boys At ALL Costs" indoctrination that has already started. He has a new found appreciation for my dad and would like to apologize for stealing his daughter.
When we look back on these years I hope we remember how Porkchop had a reaction to the adhesive the night before pictures making baby acne seem funny. How Mom forgot Scrunch's bow and had to buy one on the way. How both kids had paint in their nails from finger painting the night before and how Scrunch still had it in her hair. I hope we remember that stuff and not that we were so tired we rescheduled someone's birthday.