I was pretty convinced that I needed some alone time this evening. Sort of like a time out. I might've behaved poorly at the vet's office today (and even moreso on the phone with him afterwards). My daughter pointed and chuckled at the crumpled up bill on the counter. That is a tale for another time, and right now I am trying to find my happy place that is nowhere near the land where I am always the bitch. Some alone time would definitely do the trick...except it's so lonely. Vacuuming and dusting just weren't giving me any sort of enchanted enlightened feeling, so here I am. I thought I would share a conversation that took place in our van yesterday afternoon...
[Setting the stage...general silliness going on]
me (to 14): What is wrong with you?
14: What IS wrong with me? Well...
me: That you are 14 and still addicted to Pokemon cards? (which he was fidgeting with at the time)
14: Well, it all started when I was born...
me: ...with a big old hematoma on your head.
14: Hematoma? What's that?
me: Like a big bruise. You had such a conehead, and a big scab on the hematoma.
14: Ew! Great.
me: Well, we brought you home anyway.
14: So your womb was like a razor? I hope you got that fixed.
(slight pause, as nobody really knew where to go or how involved to get with the birthing process)
11 from the backseat: Well, I didn't have one!
I can honestly say that I still do not fully understand the condition of that boy's head after delivery, nor am I certain that I want to! There was no razor extraction performed before child number two, just in case you were wondering.
14 just called to see if he could extend his trip with his friends' family overnight, and I said "yes"...because saying "I really like to be able to watch you sleep for five seconds every night" didn't seem like a decent reason to say "no".