My baby girl is stoned on infant tylenol tonight. She had her first batch of needles and I can honestly say that I think it was harder on me than it was her. Not that she wasn't pissed off and appealing to me with big blue eyes filled with tears. But I had to watch... watch her cry.... watch her want my arms.... watch her want me to make it stop. But like all things, it too came to an end and now she's sleeping and the world has returned to its proper axis.
It snowed last night and this morning I had an overwhelming urge to haul out my christmas boxes. But at Peter's look of disdain, I refrained. My time will arrive. But speaking of my Peter, I sent him out the door with a very astute fuck you and a refusal to look at him. He said something he shouldn't have, without thinking, and I can't say that I blame him for that, but it still pissed me off, so I guess I'm still blaming him. He made reference to my bum, which has yet to fully return to its pre-pregnancy shape. I am reminded of my uncle Andy and his infinate wisdom this summer, remarking to me during my 8th month of pregnancy on a hot and humid day: "You know, that baby's going to hurt a lot more coming out than it did going in". I think I told him to fuck off too. Anyhoo, the moral of the story is that the whole thing's pretty stupid and I was glad that I told him to drive safe and have a good evening while he was with his friends. And I meant it. But I'm still sleeping in the spare room tonight... there's just not enough room in our bed for the three of us.... Peter, me.... and my ass. F#!$er.
When choosing between two evils, I always like to try the one I've never tried before.