Sunday Roundup

My dear friend Mara and Ashley threw me a baby shower today. I can't even put into words how appreciative I am to have such kind and giving friends in my life. Even though our Baumholder soldiers are heading to downrange pretty soon, the girls took time away from their precious families to celebrate the pending arrival of our baby. We ate, played games, and shared a lovely afternoon. My camera died again, I think for good this time, so you'd just have to wait for the pictures from Ashley to join in on the fun. And some of the husbands got together to counter balance the estrogen level by going out for an early dinner at Hooters. You heard me. Let's just say fun was had by all. In all honesty, Wil really needed a break from me. I've been seriously on his case about lifting things he shouldn't, and spending 24-7 together being mad was really getting to us. I'm pretty sure he would have gone frog hunting in the rain if it got him out of the house for a few hours.

In other news, I was greeted by an unpleasant sight in the bathroom mirror this morning. One of my greatest pregnancy fears was that I would wake up one day covered in stretch marks that would make me look like a large railroad track. Oh, vanity. Somehow I managed to escape them for almost 34 weeks, but, alas, all good things must come to an end. Granted, they are tiny (about 1/2") and in a discreet location nearing my left hip bone and look more like veins than stretch marks, but the point is I know they are there--plotting for an expansion plan. Now I can't stop looking at them. It's like a bad accident. Sigh.

And why do my kids always have a stomach problem and need to go to the bathroom at 4:00 a.m.? And why do they always know that momma is the sucker, who would not only take them out in the rain in her pjs, glasses, and poofy bed head but also be dumb enough to let them run off leash? It's the wee hour of the morning and I obviously don't think clearly before sunrise. Nothing pleases my children more than a wrestling match in a mud plot after a good poop. If I were a patrolling MP, I'd probably shoot someone who look like me on sight without hesitation. Just picture me running through the soggy field in the dark and rain chasing two giant wrestling monkeys, all the while shaking my fists and mumbling something like, "if you thought a switch to fat-boy cookies were a severe injustice, you wait until I get you back under my talons." Only by the will of God did I get a hold of them. They knew they were in BIG trouble, so suck-up kisses and big "I'm sorry" doe eyes for momma were in order. Then I'm all, "oh, you guys are so cute even under all that stingy mud. Let me dry you off and we'll cuddle in bed." SUCKER. I know. I've got no chance with one that has a manipulating power of words.