Moving On

Don’t feel too sorry for me. It’s not like we were trying. I was even doing the “opposite talk” to myself when I headed to the bathroom (at work) to test. “Of course it’s going to be negative. You don’t know when you had your last period and you probably didn’t ovulate…so of course, it’s going to be negative!” because nothing fools the Opposite Gods like telling them you DON’T want to be pregnant…

Pfft. Obviously, they weren’t fooled.

Also? My period started later in the day. ‘Figures.

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Aitch’s 18mos check-up is this week. I’m going to fib to the Ped and say that she’s completely off the bottle. We are just weaning her from the morning one. We’re saving the best for last, the night-time bottle. It’s easy enough to distract her in the morning with either the shouting that goes on between Sparring Partner and Doodicus or toast or juice or hurrying our asses out the door because it’s foggy/icy/snowing or there’s an earthquake.  Don’t laugh. It could happen.

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We gave Doodicus a tattoo book for Christmas with “500 Plus” tattoos. He was sporting four, all well hidden since the school frowns on even the fake ones. He wanted another so he selected the black and white guitar with wings and we put it next to the Chinese word for “Fake Tattoo”. Aitch was watching us with some interest, but when I put the wet washcloth on top of the paper to release the image, she got pretty agitated and kept trying to pull it off. She thought Doodicus had an owie or that I was hurting him. When we were done, I tried to show her that it wasn’t an owie but she just looked at the guitar and shook her head.

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I bought Aitch some shoes that squeak when walked on. They are quite adorable and in spite what my Facebook friends thought (that I would break the squeaker within an hour), I giggle every time we put them on her feet. And while my tolerance has exceeded even my expectations, the constant squeak squeak squeak squeak squeak (walking)…squeak…(pausing)….squeaksqueaksqueaksqueak (running) must be bugging Aitch. Now when we put the shoes on her feet, she’ll walk on her tippy-toes. Good balance practice I suppose, but not the best for the long haul. We removed the squeakers. Of course, when we put them back on, Aitch kept stomping around trying to get them to squeak. Man, she’s fickle.

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They are predicting another major snowstorm for us Midwesterners next week. I don’t care. Only nine more full weeks before Spring. So what if we’ll get snow up to another eight weeks after that.