Morning. I need a cigarette or four and a bourbon. I don’t even drink bourbon, but it sounds like the breakfast of champions right about now. It’s definetly the day after a vacation where it’s all craziness and mayhem after you come home. Needy child after being at grandma’s, laundry, errands, and well, back to work. Yippie Skippie!
The trip home was essentially uneventful unless you count the woman giving birth, or at least that is what is sounded like, in the Maryland rest stop bathroom. Wow. The screams. The wails and cries for “Dear God help me! Someone help me with the Pains! It was like Melanie was giving birth all over again during the siege of Atlanta in there. We found high chairs at lunch time and we got home before we both totally went over the edge of sanity after being in a car for eight hours.
T.D. is sportin’ bows in her hair now courtesy of Mem and I approve. H said they should change colors with her moods- red for angry, black for foul, and so on. I’m fine with the fact that now she looks real cutesy girly poo like. I’m kind of sick of people calling her “buddy” just because she’s wearing a blue shirt or green sweater. All of a sudden she seems more like an actual thinking person and no longer such a baby. She’s showing us what she wants, knows where things are, and has a range of more complex emotions. She’s also less pliable and bendable to my will. I knew that wouldn’t last forever.
It’s off to tackle the laundry monster, do some actual work and oh yeah maybe dress myself.
