Joining the masses for Jen's 7 day blogging challenge. Try to contain yourself...this is navel-gazing at it's best.
Camille: "I wear your glasses, Ra-Ra?"
Aunt Sarah: "Your wish is my command, Camille."
My children are in the inevitable detox brought on from a week spent at my parent's house. My Sister the Sister (of the infamous Nashville Dominicans) and my attorney Sister and her hubs were in town, so we did a Staycation with our entire family.
My kids are just now coming off a week long sugar binge and the experience of having 5 other non-parental units indulge every single one of their minute personal desires.
The detox isn't pretty.
For instance, when I wouldn't let Camille have some goldfish crackers until she finished her sandwich yesterday, she said,
"If you don't give me some goldfish, I'm gonna pee on you."
And I silently cursed my entire family for creating such monsters.
We returned from our Staycation Saturday evening and this morning, I woke up with an anxiety attack. This is the last week of swim team, which means our swim schedule is grueling. (Practice everyday plus two meets this week and a swim party on Saturday.) And August is right around the corner, so Summer is almost over.
While I lay in bed making mental lists of all the things I still haven't taken care of---book buying, securing school supplies, doctors and dentist appointments, gifts for the swim coaches, locating a babysitter for my mandatory teacher's meetings--I started dreading August and the impending school year.
Then I got up, and wandered downstairs where I noticed all the dirt and filth, the unorganized piles of stuff, the unpacked suitcases, the overgrown lawn, and the general unkempt nature of my home, and I panicked some more.
Because I wasn't feeling stressed enough, I decided to keep my 11 am dermatology appointment so the doctor could examine a few suspicious moles. I was right to get them checked out because the doctor biopsied two a-typical ones.
I wasn't too nervous about the procedure, until I saw the life size posters of the various stages of skin cancer and then....my imagination got to working.
Maybe it's just me, but the in depth information on the classification system of melanomas while waiting for a dermatologist to biopsy some weird moles seems like over kill.
MySummer Book Club is reading Les Miserables, which is a novel almost 1300 pages in length. While the story is breathtakingly beautiful, Victor Hugo could have benefited from an editor. Oh, I know. I'm immature, uncultured, and uneducated to think one of the greatest novelists who ever lived needed an editor.
But the dude was wordy.
And that's saying something coming from me.
Christopher has been wearing this outfit since we returned home on Saturday evening. I noticed some serious stains on it, but I'm pregnant and it's super hot and I'm picking my battles. If he wants to wear it to the moon and back, I really don't care right now.
See you tomorrow.
I'm sure you can't wait.