It's kind of weird to be sitting here recapping the weekend since the most important part of the weekend is still going on, but I don't really care about the Super Bowl. I did see the halftime show, though, and decided that when I'm finished being pregnant I'm totes getting myself a highwire (tightwire?) and learning to bounce on it. Also, I was pleased to see that ol' Madonna sang my favorite song about fellatio*. Matt's off watching the game at a friends' house, and I considered going (only because there was going to be pizza there), but decided not to because I needed to stay home with Mitch.
Why did I have to stay home with Mitch? Oh, because I'm just the worst mother who's ever lived.
Let's back up. See, in our house, we're not huge medicine takers. I mean, we take it when we need it, but we try to only take it when we actually need it need it. Like, if I have a headache, I'll drink water first or take a nap before I pop a pill to get it to go away. Anyway, I've applied my little silly medicine philosophy to my pup as well, so I only give him his flea medicine when he needs it (i.e., when I see a flea on him). And his flea medicine is insanely powerful--like, we live in bug central and I haven't given him his flea meds since May. But then I saw a flea on him yesterday and decided to give him the pill. But I didn't remember, probably because I hadn't done this in like nine months, that he was supposed to take it on a full stomach. So he got really sick. Puking a lot, weak, pitiful, confused, whining, uncomfortable--sick. And it was my fault. And we were up until about 5 a.m. last night/this morning trying to get him to feel better, and I don't know if I've ever felt so guilty about anything in my life. He's fine now, but I'm so riddled with guilt that I've refused to leave the house all day. So there's that little awful anecdote to make me question my ability to parent a dog child, much less a human child.
Aside from the fact that I poisoned my favorite creature on the planet, the weekend was pretty nice. The weather's been out of control nice, and we've had lots of tasty food, and I was really productive and got to cross lots of stuff off of my giant to-do list (wish Matt hadn't written "try to kill Mitch" on the list--shoot), and we ate lots of good food and I even ellipted for the first time in two weeks (was totes secretly hoping that ellipting would be too hard and I would get winded doing it and then pass out so that I wouldn't be able to do it until after baby was here, but, mother eff, it was fantastic and I feel fantastic and my back and legs actually hurt less now).
Here's what it's looked like around here.
Matt: Mitch, you better be careful sitting there. Someone's going to come and try to buy you.
Mmmmmmm. . .grilled buffalo chicken salad.
That's Super Bowl food for people who have to go get weighed on Tuesday.
Nursery sneak peek, complete with name hints! Mitch has been jonesin' for that Moose with Socks since July, and I think that after this weekend I might just give it to him.
I'm actually looking forward to this coming week. Damn you, ellipting endorphins! What about you? Big plans for the week ahead?
*Everyone agrees that the song is about that, right? Like, how can it not be?