In the Dailies

I have nothing interesting to say, but I feel pretty guilty for neglecting this blog lately. So, prepare yourselves for some randomness. Massive randomness.

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My pelvis feels better. Oh, you missed that? Yes, my lovely, adorable, active and rough-and-tumble boy attacked me yesterday. Zach has this “cute” thing that he does. He runs full and jumps at people. Usually it’s when we’re standing up and so we catch him and use his momentum to propel him around in the air like a super hero. He loves it. But he’s strong and he never warns us when it’s coming.

Yesterday, since it poured rain all day, I decided it was the perfect day to properly introduce the kids to Rodgers and Hammerstein. Knowing the boy’s lack of interest in romance and ballet, I chose “The Music Man.”

The kids loved it! Zach’s favorite part, of course, was “Sha-poopy.” He’ll continue singing that song the rest of the week.

After the show ended, Ellie wanted to reenact it. As she and I sat on my queen-sized bed singing all the songs and thoroughly discussing the plot and why it’s not nice to trick people for money, Zach flew at me and landed his full thirty-five pounds directly on my … well, let’s just say it’s a good thing I don’t plan to get pregnant again.

I screamed. Ellie gasped. Zach laughed.

I didn’t want to scare the kids by my obvious agony, so I walked into the living room where I collapsed into the fetal position over the couch and cried. Ellie promptly joined me and started rubbing my back. Zach followed and began playing “Peek-a-boo” with the pillow I clutched to my lady parts.

Ellie comforts with caresses. Zach comforts with laughter. She’s my nurturer and he’s my clown. Oh, I love them so much!

Anyway, my lady bone was hurting the rest of the day. I worried it might be cracked or something, but figured a doctor couldn’t do anything about it anyway. I mean, if it’s not broken, what are they going to do? I didn’t exactly want to sport a cast like Meredith on “The Office.” So I took a couple Advil around 10 PM and went to bed.

This morning I feel better.

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Facebook can be quite surreal. I “ran into” an old friend this week who now looks like George Clooney. I’m not kidding. Last night I told Rick about it. Our conversation went kind of like this:

Me: “So this guy, we’re the same age, but he’s totally grey now. Not that he looks bad, he actually looks really good.”

Rick: “Yeah, some guys at work –

Me: “I mean, like really good! He’s still got dark eyebrows, but his hair is all grey.”

Rick: “Yeah, I’ve seen –

Me: “He looks just like George Clooney. You know with those deep eyes? We were in theatre together. He looked good then, but not this good.”

Rick: “Did you date him?”

Me: “No. I would have, but he never asked me.” (Rick then started laughing.) “Yeah, he was on my brother’s baseball team and … (Rick’s laughter increased.) Well, he was just too cool for me.”

Rick: “Yeah, probably. You ready to watch TV?”

Me: “Yeah.”

A while back, I don’t know how long ago, during one of these just before bed conversations, Rick said to me: “So, you still wanna talk or what?” He’s gotten a little more tactful with his end-of-conversation segue.

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A well-stocked freezer is a beautiful thing. It’s like the loaves and the fishes that never run out. I have intended to go grocery shopping since last Friday. It’s Wednesday, and I still haven’t done it. That’s six days later! Surprisingly, we’ve only had take-out a couple times. The rest has come from my cave of frosty options. Today, though, I have no excuse. I shall brave the market with two energetic kids and one long list and hopefully emerge victorious in less than three hours.

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I promise to make my next post slightly more coherent and maybe even relevant. Until then, happy Wednesday, all!