Scraps

I don't have any long involved stories to tell, but there are a few minor incidents/aha! moments to share:

• I have discovered why my house is always such a wreck. It's my husband's fault! I got the house clean for listing/showing and kept it pristine for over a week. Within 30 minutes of his arrival this weekend, the whole house was junked up! The kitchen counters were covered in papers, the bedroom floor was hidden under his clothes and the bathroom smelled like a urinal. See? I'm not a bad housekeeper! It's all his fault!*
• We went to dinner with T's BFF and his very pregnant wife yesterday evening. She is an adorable pregnant woman and I told her how great she looked. She thanked me, but said that she didn't feel beautiful. She felt too bad about the big baby belly. Later, I was relating this story to T and told him that when I was pregnant was the only time I ever felt good about my body. His response? "Why? You are so pretty!" Best! response! ever! (It doesn't hurt that the hubs is a boob man and when I gain weight, I gain it everywhere, if you know what I mean!)
• I hate stall showers. This morning, at my in-laws' house, I was showering in a smallish stall shower and thinking to myself how much I hate that particular shower. Apparently, the shower took it personally. When I propped my foot up on the wall to wash my toes, the other foot slipped out from under me. I landed with a colossal thud that had my hubs pounding up the stairs in a flash. Luckily, my head broke my fall. He found me sprawled on the bottom of the shower: door open, water spraying everywhere, clutching my head. My hair saved the day. If not for my doubled-up pony tail, I might have done myself some real damage. Now there is a reason to be thankful for thick hair!
• I got to hang out with Chica and Chicklette this afternoon. I cannot say often enough how CUTE Chicklette is! Those fat little thighs! Nom! I could eat her up. But I digress... so Chica and I decided to go for a walk. For the first time, I could really tell that I had put on some poundage. Within two blocks of her house, my shins were all like, "WTF? You can't be serious!" It didn't help that she has legs up to her armpits and I have to take like five steps to her every one. It was like she was walking a (verrrry round) chihuahua. I was totally sucking wind and I don't think Chica broke a sweat. Seriously. It is time to make some changes. Yep, fat thighs on a baby? Adorable. Fat thighs on me? Not so much.
• For the last several days, Q has been having major blow-outs of the runs-down-his-leg-into-his-boot variety. He had one this morning, so I thought we were done for the day. We arrive at McD's for dinner on the way back to Small Town and hit the bathroom. When we were done, Q said, "Poopie." I asked him if it really was poop or if it was only tinkle. He said it was tinkle, so I told him I would change it when we got back to the car. We get our food and hit the play area. Again he said, "Poopie!" so we repeated the above conversation and I sent him on his way. At last, when it was about time to leave, he came up to me and said, "Poopie! Peese! (Q-speak for 'please')" With a sinking heart, I finally actually checked his diaper. Blow-out city. I am the worst mom ever. I am just grateful that a.) it didn't bleed through his clothes and get smeared all over the play area; and b.) that his little hiney didn't get all chapped from my unintentional neglect.

*Sigh. If only it was all his fault. Usually I share in the blame. It was just his fault this time.