1. Last Saturday I got to be with my friend Megan for the first few hours of her labor. Her husband arrived with plenty of time for the actual crazy-tough labor and birth, but I got to be there for the early part- when he was on an airplane trying to get back from Michigan as quickly as he could, and her contractions were getting more and more intense.
I shared this intimate experience with her landlady, two women who showed up at her house for a house tour, and the HVAC guy (naturally- doesn’t everyone have an HVAC guy on hand for their labor?). Surprisingly, the HVAC guy was no help with the contractions. Kept wanting to check the air vents and stuff instead.
I came home and realized I was completely exhausted from watching someone else labor. Doulas/midwives/nurses/doctors- your job is no joke.
2. On Sunday I came up the stairs during “room time” (where my son naps in one room and my daughter plays by herself in the other) and caught my daughter trying to squeeze her big-girl toothpaste into the little toothpaste tube (the toddler toothpaste). Why? She had eaten the entire tube of toddler toothpaste. I had just bought it the night before. That apple-banana-berry flavor combo is hard to beat.
This is the third tube she’s eaten.
You’d think I would have learned to remove the toothpaste from her room. Third time’s a charm. Now I (finally) keep the toothpaste in our bathroom.
3. On Monday my neighbor showed up on at my door, asking for a ride. He was holding his hand in a towel and the towel was very red. Conversely, he looked very pale.
I got to take him to the emergency care because he had a little run in with a table saw. There may or may not have been parts of fingertips involved. I couldn’t look at it. I can handle blood just fine, but seeing the actual injury might have put me over the edge. I know my limits.
He left us a souvenir in our car-a blood drip in the passenger seat. So now we have:
coffee stains on the drivers’ seat: standard
muffin crumbs all over the back: bo-ring
blood stain in the passenger seat: BAD ASS.
Sure, at some point we’ll probably have other blood stains in there, but let’s be honest- they’ll probably be from some child that picked their nose too much. Table saw-accident blood stain? In my mini-minivan? I’ll take it. Again: BAD ASS.
Just another week or so in the life of your average stay at home mom…