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Tired. Too much weekend.
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An open letter to my Husband:
If, let's say, you're leaving for work on Wednesday and you happen to casually mention that Kyle and Lilly are coming for dinner that night, and if I respond with a blank look and we realize you'd neglected to mention that piece of news to me previously, and if I then run around like a crazy person getting some dinner together, and you call me near the end of the day and tell me that they've had to reschedule for Saturday, and if on Saturday morning you discover that the Red Sox game you're going to with Joe and the rest of his groomsmen is, in fact, on Saturday night instead of Sunday afternoon, causing you to then change our plans again, and if Kyle and Lilly then call the house at 10:00 on Sunday morning and say they're "stopping by" at Noon, and if I again run around like a crazy person so there will be lunch to serve them and a clean house to serve it in--if all of those things happen, and then Kyle comments that you have an amazing wife to get everything together like that...
If you are presented with a comment like that, you should agree. You don't need to expand on it, but you do need to agree.
"Well, we're all busy" is not a proper response. Nor will it help your case when later, you're feeling "in the mood" and I am not.
Just so you know.
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Now that I've gotten THAT off my chest...
Mom's house has a floor! They're hopeful that by the end of the week it will have walls! This is very good news.
Will has learned how to pull himself from laying down into a sitting position in his crib. The second time he did it, he thought it was fun. The first time, shortly after I put him down for a nap on Friday, he realized he didn't know how to lay back down to go to sleep and started to scream. I thought I was going to find a bleeding, legless child behind his closed door from the ruckus he raised. Poor little guy. I think he's got a lot of surprises in store over the next few weeks.
Kirk a.k.a. Godpapa called a little while ago, sounding downright perky. Apparently, our fix-up is going well. He asked if they could stop over later. I jokingly told the Husband they were coming to tell us they're engaged. It's not completely beyond the realm of possibility, knowing his track record. But I think I was just joking.
George cut all my hair off on Saturday. Well, not ALL my hair. I didn't pull a Sinead (no, I'm not going to badmouth the Pope). But its about three inches shorter than it was. Feels like all.
That's really all the news that's fit to print. Or pring, as I typed the first time. Tired. Too much weekend.
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