Yesterday was our 7th anniversary (Steve and I of course). As I was getting ready to go to dinner E came upstairs to “help me.” She offered to help me find a dress. She then started asking about my wedding dress. She has seen it before and understands I wore it for our wedding but the idea of a wedding is still a strange concept. Last week I blew her mind when she pointed out that Steve and I have different mommies. I told her that yes, you marry someone that has a different mommy. She looked perpelexed and then stated she would probably marry one of our friends two sons then.
So back to yesterday I unzipped the bag so she could see my wedding dress.
E- “WOW! That’s so pretty! Are you going to wear it tonight?!”
Me- No honey, I don’t think I would fit in it right now.
E-Yeah your belly is a little big, maybe you can wear it at your next wedding.
Well ok then. I was just planning on the one.
Let’s step back for a second to a TRUE story about young Lauren.
One lovely day I was at a large full Catholic Church service (from the many versions I have heard of this you would think it was like Easter Sunday but I think it was just a regular Sunday). Anywho, I must have been less than cooperative and a little chatty. My mom said, “Lauren, do you want to go to the little girls room?” :::READ- Get it together kid, do you want to go to the bathroom for a spanking, you are embarrassing me:::
Young Lauren then responded in a louder tone (and possibly with a smile, but that may have been added in for dramatic effect when it was retold)-
“Mommy, don’t beat me till I bleed again!”***
***I was never beaten. Maybe a light spanking at most. No idea where that came from. Various family members can vouch that they heard the story from my mom.
But my mortified mom couldn’t touch me and made sure she was seen holding me (neither screaming or bleeding) while people exited the service.
So let’s just say I have it coming and I know it.
Today we were in a hurry before preschool and Bible study. I had to run in to the grocery store to pick up some cream cheese. We had started the get ready/breakfast routine earlier to allow for a stop to pick-up bagels (and any unexpected nausea, ha). Things were timing out well till I realized I didn’t have cream cheese. Mother of pearl! (One of the many mommed up bad words I say in my head).
I could bail on the cream cheese and feel like a jerk at Bible Study or we could do an Usain Bolt style sprint through the grocery store and hopefully only be a few minutes late to preschool. Sorry preschool, maybe one day I will get it together. Not today.
Picture the 5 months pregnant lady nearly dragging the 4 and 2.5 year old to the back of the store where the cream cheese is. S wanted to walk but as any mother can tell you, when you are in a hurry it’s like they suddenly are stuck in quick sand in slow motion. Why?!? They literally run everywhere else? Anyway… as I am carrying him he YELLS to the whole store.
“My butt hurts, mommy you hurt my BUTT!”
What? I don’t even know what that means. I never touched his butt. I apologize good people at the Harris Teeter. Thank you for not calling anyone on us. My mom probably had a hearty giggle from that one. I’m sure I will have far worse embarrassments to come too.
Sam then informed me he was excited to go to church “to see his boys.” This kid.
There has been a lot of Monday in my Tuesday.