As I write this, I'm channeling Edgar Allen Poe: "The fruit flies! The fruit flies!"
Haven't I been complaining about fruit flies for way too long now? Is it even possible to have them for this long?
I'm on my way to a rubber room.
Shocking news: I bought Lauren a new outfit the other day.
I know, I know. Hard to believe what with how I can't go into any store anywhere in the world without wandering into the little girls' section.
So last week I was in Bon Ton and saw the cutest little outfit: black leggings with a dress that is black and white checkers on the bottom and black on top with silver necklace appliques. Very cute. Oh, and I may have also gotten her a Hello Kitty jacket. I can't help it; she loves Hello Kitty!
Of course as soon as she saw the outfit, she put it on and fell in love with it. She put the Hello Kitty jacket on over it and said she was zipping it all the way up so she could surprise Daddy when she unzipped it and showed him the "pretend necklaces" on the dress.
Imagine my shock when she says to me, "Mommy, when I show daddy the dress, I'm gonna go like this:"
(starts unzipping the jacket, smiling, and making googly eyes): "Heeeeey, good-lookin'"
Just insert utter shock here.
After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I asked her where she heard that, fully expecting to hear something that would incriminate the neighbor kids, the big brothers, maybe her fellow soccer players.
"From a story at school."
Apparently, they read a story wherein a character looked at the mirror and said to him/herself, "Heeeey, good-lookin'!"
The connection with unzipping the jacket was purely coincidental. I hope. Unless in her class at the Christian preschool, they were reading a book about a hooker.
In other conversation news, I had this one with David yesterday regarding whether I should keep my mouth shut about something that really burned me up:
Me: So, you think I shouldn't say that?
David: No, you're bigger than that.
Me: I'm not big. I'm small. Tiny.
David: Well, be big anyway.
Me (channeling Jerry Seinfeld talking about being a pirate): But, I don't wanna be big.
Sometimes the high road is not all it's cracked up to be. Especially when one's mind comes up with the zingers mine does. Seriously, the things I wanted to say were way too good to be wasted in just my own thoughts. They would have won the Pulitzer of Snarky Remarks.
Why, yes, the self-control I exercise is practically Herculean, thankyouverymuch.
We sing a song at church that contains the line, "I want to feel the hand of God move mightily inside of me." For the record, it's another song I intensely dislike. However, God speaks to me through anything he chooses.
A few weeks ago as we were singing it, I accidentally messed up the lyrics and sang "in spite of me" instead of "inside of me."
The truth was not lost on me.
"I want to feel the hand of God move mightily in spite of me." Judging by my clear need for a Savior (as illustrated in QT #5), I think this is actually a more meaningful and accurate lyric.
So, it's what I sing every time now.
Someone please nominate me for Parent of the Year. I assure you, I'm a shoe-in.
As long as no one mentions what happened at the doctor's office this morning.
Ethan had his six-year checkup (a mere 3 months after his birthday), and before going in the exam room, the nurse checked his vision by having him read the letters on a vision chart at the end of the hall.
He didn't do particularly well, especially with his left eye.
So we go in the exam room, the doctor completes his checkup and then consults his chart and says, "Oh, I see here Dr. G. recommended that you take Ethan to an eye doctor last year. Did you do that?"
What? Huh? No she didn't. Oh, wait. Oh, crap. That's starting to sound familiar. Oh, you're right she did. "Um, no, we didn't."
See what happened was at the time of his checkup last year, we didn't have any insurance. We knew we would have some a few months later, and he didn't exactly fail the eye exam, and clearly he could see, so we decided to wait until we got insurance and then take him to the optometrist.
Except we forgot. Completely. Until about ten seconds after the pediatrician told me about it this morning.
So yeah, maybe don't mention this particular checkup. Or the time I forgot to pick up Lauren. Or how she was unzipping her jacket and saying, "Hey, good lookin'." Or how many times I've called poison control.
Other than that, I've got this. It's totally in the bag.