For those of you who read me or know me, you know Murphy is my best friend. Well, this weekend, apparently after being absent for a little while, he decided to be extra clingy and attach himself to my hip. There was no trip to Birmingham. Nothing productive happened except a two hour nap on Saturday afternoon.
I won't go into the long story, but summarize to say Hubby had his diaper shower that evening that we had to be back from B'ham for. There were huge miscommunications all across the board, Hubby didn't check the shower invite until friday night and realized the wedding we were supposed to go to along with the diaper shower started at the same time. We wound up having to stay here. Not a huge deal. We might still go before this baby is born, but Murphy put a good sized whole in my bubble of excitement, so I'm not able to get excited about much right now.
Then, Saturday night a couple of the wives of the hubby's at the diaper shower came over and we watched a movie. We had a good time and that was the highlight of my weekend.
Then yesterday was a pretty normal day until we got home for lunch. We cooked a roast in our crock pot. Apparently cooked isn't quite the word. We dehydrated it. It was dry, the potatoes weren't done, and Punky refused to eat. Never one to allow my kids to say no to eating a certain thing, we had to discipline Punky for "cheeking" her food and not swallowing it. After getting a little bit down her, I decided Hubby had to take care of it. I was losing my temper with her and I put my own plate up and went to bed for a 3 hour nap. She finally had to go down for her nap hungry. Now I totally get that it wasn't a good roast. But Chicken was chowing away at it and Punky was getting an attitude about it and decided to start trying to negotiate. As in, "I'll just drink some of my apple juice to help me chew it," she would say. But she downed a third of it and still wasn't swallowing. I don't do negotiation with a two year old!
Then, a very uncomfortable moment happened last night. Now, I've been pregnant THREE times in three years. Not once have I felt uncomfortable about another woman touching my belly. But another man? To be honest, I didn't have a clue what to say to him. He walked up to me and one of my pregnant friends as we were talking with both hands out and said, "Can I rub the bellies for good luck?" We just stared at him. We looked at each other and then stared at him some more. Get the hint, dude. But he.didn't.leave. He just stood there continuing to hold out his hands and wait for our answer. I finally said, "go for it" just to get him to leave and he patted my stomach and my friend covered hers up and said, "No, sorry." Feeling like I had just been violated, I looked at my friend with an incredulous look as he walked away. I mean, did that really just happen? Will he ask to touch my boobs when I'm breast feeding in a few weeks because they're bigger than normal?!
Don't get me wrong, this guy is super nice but more than once I've gotten the impression he doesn't think a whole lot before he talks. And I know all about that because Murphy controls my tongue half the time. Now, in the two weeks I have left, I will simply refer him to Hubby's bald head for good luck. After all, Murphy isn't Hubby's best friend like he is mine.
Today starts VBS at church, so we'll see if Murphy has a religious streak or not.
Yes, just thought I'd share a pic of Chicken sitting IN our double sided fireplace. A friend of mine told me I'd better watch out during the winter. I told her I'd stick an apple in his mouth and be done with it. HA! The little stinker.
