Crappy show on TV?
Time to blog.
Crazy times in our world. Evie turns two on Sunday. And while that means a whole host of things to me on an emotional level, it means even more to me on a "bug the shit out of me" level. Cause now I have to decorate and plan and purchase and wrap and hide and create happy. And that sucks. We took the easy road with Evie this year. I bought a bunch of crack head Elmo shit to send to daycare and let them do the dirty work. Fortunately I dropped the pinata, cupcakes, ice cream, party favors, bags, hats, napkins, plates and table cover off the night before. Layla decided to get sick. Like, puking on the floor sick, so her and I loaded Evie into the car and dropped her to birthday heaven. And turned around to take the sick one home. Unfortunately for all of us, Mike was sent to Elba's for picture duty and observed first hand that it's a young crowd and that while that is okay for Evie, Layla's birthday may not be what we want for her. So that plan to send dinosaur shit to Elba's and let them do it went out the window. On to bigger, better, and more expensive plans.
Venue exploring I go.
Whatever. It kicked off my spring break with a sad little bing, and not the bang that I wanted. Good thing I have the Iditarod to look forward to. I had to giggle while driving to get my wine as I gazed out at all the snow being carted in to downtown for the start. Hilarious.
We've made a decision. One that I am so damn excited about, I can't even tell you. We're taking the girls to daycare next week while we're on spring break. That's right. All week, and I'm stoked. I'm certain that somewhere on the shitty parent meter, we just scored off the charts, but it's going to be a great break that I plan to relish.
Layla informed me last night that "a long, long, time ago when she was a little boy, she was sad because she had a boob in her vagina.