Tears at Target

by - 11:39 AM

Wednesday already.
Where does time go?
Monday, I did not wake up feeling like P. Diddy. I woke up feeling like I was on the brink of death.
Tuesday, I was smoked with work. All day.
Wednesday, I bought watermelon and did not spring for seedless. I am seriously regretting that error. I was spending precious time picking out seeds before I decided to crunch through them.

Let's get started, shall we?

Ryan left for California on Wednesday last. I kissed his sleepy face that morning before heading into work and didn't hear from him for a few days. An appropriate, although not suitable for the internet, excuse sufficed. Let's just say it was funny to me and embarrassing for him.

By Friday, he was back in action, and so was I. He was sending me pictures that A.) looked like they belong in a calendar and B.) make me yearn for an Iphone.

But I was creating my own destiny...er, fun. I was sick, but around 5p.m I awoke from a ColdandFlu medication haze, packed the puppies in the car, and we hit the road. I promised them fun. I promised them a party. We were headed on our first stay-cation.

If nothing else, it was a party. A puppy party.

It was five dogs, three adults and a mostly fun kid all weekend.
My sister has a German Shep./Chow puppy who, at 3ish months old, is as big as my 3-year-old Lhasa. They couldn't get enough of each other and I encouraged Jackers to take advantage of this. This puppy will be his size for about, oh, a week?

We made soup. We shopped.
We baby-loved.

A real bump is making it's appearance.


My Oma had a birthday yesterday. I spoke to her in the evening and she told me, oddly, that she was thinking of inverting the numbers in her age so everyone would think she's 97. I told her, nobody'd believe ya.

We went to lunch on Saturday to celebrate.
It was delightful.


On Sunday, Adellia lost her mind.
She lost it in Target.
It was a tough day for her. Nobody would buy her a gerbil, which is a catastrophe for any little girl, but especially for her. In, perhaps, the most poignient conversations I've had in my life, she calmly explained to me that she is going to be jealous of the new baby.

Everyone will give the baby lots of presents, Aunt Jenn.
Oh honey-bear, I told her, they'll all be stupid baby toys. You don't want those, do you?

She said no.
And then I let her paint my fingernails, because that's the only way to soothe a little girl who knows she's going to be totally jaded when a new baby infiltrates her house. And who doesn't get a gerbil at Target.
She cried at Target and even though I know we were teaching her an important lesson {Listen Lady, you don't always get what you want!} it was a bummer when I asked if she was mad at me and she nodded her little face up and down and then, when I picked her up and asked her to snuggle , she started to cry. Gosh, that sucks. It sucked in the moment, and it sucks now, thinking about it.

How do you tell a little girl, one who's enjoyed seven and a half years of only-childhood, that a new baby only brings more love, not less. We'll love her every bit as much as we did yesterday and six months ago and five years ago. How do you make sure she knows?

Well, you let her give you a make-over. That's how.
Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I might add "brave" to my personal list of known characteristics about myself.

And you wait a requisite fifteen minutes before wiping the sunburn-esque blush from your face.


It was a good weekend. Maybe the first weekend I've spent with Adellia that she's been aware that her life will change after the baby comes. It'll be different, but the love will be the same.


Happy Wednesday!

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