my love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a song
At last the skies above are blue
And my heart was wrapped up in clover
The night I looked at you
I found a dream that I can speak to
A dream that I could call my own
I found a thrill to press my cheek to
A thrill that I have never known
You smiled, and then the spell was cast
And here we are in heaven
And you are mine at last
(I have that song in my head)
I am fine!!! I am not sick, or coughing or taking horrible medications that cause me to feel like kokopelli [the hunchback part not the fertility god(dess) part].
However, I am also playing catch up with the lost two or three weeks of my life. If I owe you a thank you letter, a phone call, anything. I hope I get around to it.
So, in the events of the last week we find that my Schatzy turned 33, so young, so handsome, so good!
(drum roll please)
I feel like I have finally received an "official" initiation into motherhood!!!
You may recall, or you may not be so interested in knowing that I had THE EASIEST LABOR AND DELIVERY EVER...
I had hell to get there, but a morning of contractions that didn't ever make me want to push, but were a bit uncomfortable...
and what I remember as a 3 minute delivery... assuming one push every minute.
Yeah, it was way too easy, and after the horror stories, not so sure I would want to trade the bed rest for it, but that is also entirely debatable.
So what is it, you may be asking yourselves, that caused me to rejoice and dance and sing about my entree to official motherdom...
Well, I was puked on... yep, you read that right!
PUKED ON, not a little, but that projectile vomit while they are standing in front of you kind and it is all over your clothes and your shoes and you don't actually notice because their eyes speak of sorrows that seem so deep and painful, not to mention their heated brow, so warm in fact that they practically throw off steam from the puke that managed to get on them.
I also happen to be thankful that it was mainly juice... yeah none of that which makes it smell like milk gone bad, and thankfully absent of the curdles...
but I was puked on, and I held my baby boy as I cleaned him off, after I stripped my clothes off so that he would not have to rest against it as I held him close in all that I could really do to "make it all feel better".
PS I still can't figure out who the heavy metal band might be that wants to take a picture on our front porch... but I have my students working on trying to figure it out. I guess Schatz turning 33 was the final cross-over to complete forgetfulness... because every time I ask him what they are called he says'..."alluded, eluded, deluded... I dunno something ______ded". Yeah, a quick glance in our local "hip rag" reveals NOTHING!