Two weeks of ass kicking... in which - I might clarify - I have not been the kicker, but the ass.
It happens. And no one likes a complainer.
But if I were to complain, I'd mention the second round of ductal thrush that then turned into mastitis, and the two sick visits to the pediatrician, the teething that won't end, and the sleep regression that left me so drained E found me on the couch one morning devolving into hysterics, wailing "I don't even feel like a human being any more!"
What can I say? Hyperbole has always been my trademark.
a flair for the dramatic... where in the world did she pick that up, I wonder
Yet... We roll on.
And by "roll on," I mean back to front and side to side and in a circle and around again! Girlfriend is on the move and is proving to be an unstoppable force.
There has been plenty of other good stuff, too - don't let my Mama Martyrdom leave you fooled! There was a weekend with GranJan and T-Pop, a road trip to Waco to make sure Mama J's floors are up to scootin' code and to meet cousin Austen - visiting all the way from Brown.
There was even a night out - our first in far too long. We saw Moonrise Kingdom, and it made my heart boogie.
And, this afternoon, there were five, fat heirlooms sunbathing on my kitchen windowsill... five, fat heirlooms that are currently simmering with roasted red peppers into sauce perfection.
There is fresh fruit salad every day here. And, sometimes, I put it in the Good Bowl. Just because. There is a dress shirt box full of Texas peaches in my fridge - a Coldwater Creek sticker still clinging to its side. It hogs precious real estate because Mama J says peaches need room to breathe. She offers up tidbits such as this as she packs our trunk with produce and Sister Schubert's rolls and cold pork tenderloin. I am a little bit wiser each time we say good-bye.
And so it is. Just like that.