Why we've been together for nearly 14 years

"So I'm guessing you probably want me to go the wedding with you this weekend, huh? I just don't get it. It's 2 1/2 hours away and I won't know ANYone there."

"It's the nice thing to do, and, yeah, I would like you to go with me. You don't get a prize for doing something nice for someone, you know."

"I need to call a guy friend and see what he says. This seems totally unfair."

"While you're on the phone, ask him where you can find a nice pair of pants to wear to the weddding."

You should have seen the other kid

This is what I had going on yesterday.

My daughter slipped on a doormat at our front door and fell face first into a doorstop at our home.

The ones without the rubber ends.

Like the variety without the fun, springy, boingy sound.

The OLD ones that you'd probably find in antique stores today because parents from the 30s were fed up with their kids thinking they were so much fun to play around.

Three stitches.

And that's all I really want to say about it because I was not home for any of it, which was probably a good thing.

Stacy London, I would totally hang out with you

Should I really be feeling this excited about having a weekend to myself? I chose to not attend random folk festival camping event 3 hours away with my husband and a few other mutual friends in favor of staying home for planned pajama pizza party with some moms and their kiddies and to slowly overdose on What Not To Wear on TLC.

Tomorrow? WHO KNOWS. I may fleatique shop with Rosemary all afternoon in search of those great old beady necklaces I like. The cheap ones, because I'm all about quantity with crap jewelry. That and a new thrift shop purse. And tweeze my eyebrows.

Oh, the anticipation.

Uh, so maybe I was wrong

I had planned on posting something yesterday about how excited, and insanely nervous, I was about converting Rosemary's crib into a toddler bed with the two short side rails. I came home from work a little early and decided that maybe it was time for the switch (seeing as she climbed INTO her bed the other day by stepping up onto her kitchen that was strategically placed against the side). I did all of the preparations and exaggerated the fun of the experience.

"Look at the BIG GIRL BED!"

"It is soooo NEAT!"

"Now you can get up whenever you want!" (Oops, probably shouldn't have mentioned that one).

We read books together in her 'new' bed, she did a little jumping on it and we talked about how, now that the side was kind of open, it was going to be different, and way more fun.

Two hours later we heard a significant thud in her room. I thought, hopefully, that my husband had fallen over the dog, again, as he sometimes does; but we found our daughter lying on her back, still wrapped in her Thomas the train blanket screaming, with Elmo next to her on the floor.

After deliberating for about 0.12 seconds (and watching the milk slowly make perfectly formed circles on my shirt from all the crying), the crib rail was back in her room and we fished out the tiny Allen wrench from the Ziploc bag with the other crib accessories.

On the bright side is that no one was hurt (Elmo also received proper medical care, if you were wondering) and that my husband now is trained in the proper installation of a bumper pad with 24 ties at 11:45 at night, should I ever require that service again.

Over coffee Friday morning

"It was so nice going out with you this weekend. Hanging out and having a few drinks together, just the two of us, made it feel like old times again."

"No, if it were like old times again we would have come home smashed and had sex on the kitchen table."

I wonder if Hallmark makes a card for this

I'm still feeling really crummy for not making the drive to see my mom on Mother's Day. She was in town for the two days prior and Rosemary was wiped out from her sleep pattern being unpredictable during the visit (not to mention staying up until about 11 pm during Friday's Gallery Walk festivities).

Man, I must really suck as a daughter and I'm feelin' pretty selfish right about now.