27 can blow me.

I went to Boston for my 27th birthday, like I mentioned in my last post, decades ago. Not before what was supposed to be a family birthday dinner turned into a party for my sister only. I'll bill my therapist for that one.Whatever, I guess FORTY is a big deal that should totally be told to THE WHOLE INTERNETand perhaps shouted from rooftops and plastered on billboards? No? Oops. Boston was fun and all and I love the city but I am still debating on whether 27 is awesome or not. For example, my last day in Boston I got a phone call that I had a gyno appointment the next day. Well HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY TO ME YEEEEHAWWWWW!

If that wasn't bad enough, I came home to a penis laceration, diaper rash, 103 degree fever and the saddest (and most cuddly) little boy ever. So not only did I have to visit my lady-business doctor, but we decided to make a day of it and wander on over to Mason's pediatrician as well.

Turns out the laceration was from a number of things including (but not limited to) improper cleaning, and a juice overload (which just sat on his poor wang and BURNED). He cried, I cried. It was bad news. Luckily, the fever seemed to be a complete ca-winkydink and was most likely caused by a virus (still, boo) and was not linked to any sort of infection of the junk. I know this because I had to sit in the doctors office while Mason laid on me with a pee-catching bag on him WAITING for 3-ish hours for pee. None? And you're closing? Sweet, we will meander on home now where you will leave this medical procedure to me. I will conquer. Friday was AWESOME.

We watched UP, which was sad. Almost as sad as my little boy, who usually is running around breaking everything in sight. Instead, on this night, he just layed on me and watched to the movie.

Saturday was better. Sunday was way better. Today is just fine. All parts are still attached and have returned to their normal color. 27 better get it's ass in gear because I am still looking for a cave to hibernate in.

Oh and just because I am not already having the BEST year ever I have decided to do this to myself. Enjoy.

Nonononono

I would post more. If I could.

If I wasn't chasing a small person around all day yelling NO NO nonononononono.

If I had time. If I wasn't stretching myself too thin*.

If I didn't need to clear off my memory card because of my upcoming trip to Boston.**

If I wasn't preparing my child for bike rides in the Spring, which is what, 27 months away?

Or teaching him how to take himself for walks in the snow.

Or cleaning up after things like this:

Or watching him meticulously line up the little car parts that he perfectly matches MATCHES every.time. He iz genius.

Or catching him climbing the coffee table cliff-hanger style. So this is why my table will never be clean.

Or giving him more presents. And watching him do his best Forest Gump impressions.

Or clapping along while he holds ho-downs with Papa to the tune of Old MacDonald.

Or just simply loving the shit out of him at all hours of the day.

*I have lost 6 pounds since 12.28.09 (I like to put it that way because it seems SOOoooo long ago). Check out my journey, and the journey of 3 other bad-ass chicks here.

**I am going to Boston, BOSTON soon. Never been. So excited. Packing snow suit.

Written With Earplugs In

Why oh why won't you nap? Why for you scream in your crib like someone is murdering you? Is this payback? I am told at least once a month about how I NEVER napped and OMG. Halp. If you see the Sandman, Sandwoman, Tranquilizer Dart-seller Man. Send them my way.

**edited for answer to the questions I so desperately needed answered**

EFFING MOLARS, that's why. I was really brave and stuck my fingers in his mouth and there they were. Culprits one, two, THREE?! FOUR?!?! No wonder you can't sleep.