The nut doesn't fall far from the tree
Friday morning I had my bi-weekly OB appointment. (Yes, I'm already there. About a month to go!) For those of you men-folk who aren't familiar with the operations of the OBGYN, I'll clue you in. (Not too much, don't worry.) Every time you visit, you're asked to stop by the bathroom, give a urine sample, and put the cup in this nifty little door that the nurse has access to from the other side of the wall. Sounds easy enough. This past visit, however, did not go so smoothly. As I was putting my pee-cup in the little door, I noticed another urine sample already there, waiting to be grabbed by a nurse. I noticed how much more clear this mysterious cup's pee was than mine. I'll admit, I was having a little "pee envy" and mentally kicked myself for not drinking enough water before my appointment. Right as I went to put the cup in the door, I accidentally clinked it against the neighboring sample and some of my pee actually spilled right into the other cup! Now I'll fess up... I haven't read it cover to cover, but I'm pretty sure this scenario isn't played out in "What to Expect When You're Expecting". Was I supposed to walk out of that bathroom like I'd nailed such a simple assignment? (After washing my pee-hands, of course.) Or should I tell someone that I had contaminated some unsuspecting woman's pee? (I've never typed "pee" so many times in my life.) In the end, I confessed my mistake to my nurse as she led me back to my exam room. Instead of concern, I got a huge laugh, which I found confusing. What if the owner of the other cup wasn't pregnant, was trying to get pregnant, or was elderly and my pee made it look like she was knocked up?!? That's pretty major in my book. I even voiced those possibilities to the nurse and later my doctor (I have a very guilty conscience) and my answer was only met with louder laughter from more staff members outside of my room. Apparently my "whoopsie" was a first at their office.
Saturday I decided to take Barrett to one of our local pool's to get rid of some of his spider-monkey energy. Grant was on a fishing trip so it was up to me to get the kid pool-ready, gather the necessities, and get myself outfitted. I failed greatly on the last part. I dove into my drawer as Barrett clawed at my legs and I grabbed a swim suit that WAS a one-piece but was NOT maternity. It's true, I was fairly warned when it took me well over a minute to wedge myself into said suit.
At the pool, I chased Barrett around the kids area, climbed stairs, bent over, sat down, and (slowly) got back up. This information is important because at some point during all of this action, my swim suit had, in fact, ripped. In the butt. I can't even tell you when it happened. All I can say is that at some moment (probably God's intervention out of pity for me), I felt the back of my suit and thought it felt stretched pretty darn thin. As I ran my hands down my suit, I felt skin. SKIN. SKIN! I played it cool and shuffled sideways as a lifeguard walked past me. Thankfully, Barrett was willing to follow me to our bag so that I could throw a cover-up over my business-end. Did I happen to mention that there were friends at the pool and that I'm not convinced the husband didn't see my little peep-show? Who knows how long I was walking around like a kid wearing those pj's with the butt-flap open!
There you have it. The sheer ridiculousness that I so often see in my son actually seems to stem from his mama. This is where he gets it! May God have mercy on my sweet spider-monkey. May his years not be filled with such outrageous stories...and if they are, I sure hope he learns to laugh at himself. That's about all you can do when life is ready and waiting to launch jokes at your expense.
Did I mention that that same Saturday an old man at the park suggested I join a nearby work-out group? AND that I developed a sty in each eye? Har har.
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