So much has happened.
I don’t know where to start.
It reminds me of how I feel when I meet an old friend for coffee that I haven’t seen in awhile and there is so much to discuss that we don’t know where to begin. So we just dive in.
I am still computerless at my house, but not to worry — we should be up and running soon. Ironically, not having a computer has affected me much more than Husband. It’s because I HAVE to write. HAVE to. It’s my relaxation, my therapy, my escape. Much like a painter HAS to paint, and a runner HAS to run … I am a writer. I HAVE to write. When I don’t, I feel like my world is spiraling out of control (it’s really not) and then I annoy all of my friends by e-mailing them way too much (they would never admit to being annoyed).
So where to begin? I’ll start with this: I have some a-m-a-z-i-n-g friends. I took a weekend trip to Nashville for a little baby shower/girl’s weekend and it was fabulous and entirely too short.
|From left to right: Anca, Lila, Jolene (the honored one), Kelli, and me.|
I left feeling like myself again, which is hard to explain really. Even if you aren’t a parent, life has a way of throwing mud at you until you’re so caked over it’s hard to move or really see yourself clearly. I took a break to wash it all off and start again.
Yesterday, ONE drank his own pee. He was in the bathroom, and I was changing TWO’s diaper. I heard him say, sort of to himself, “What does pee taste like?” and I knew what was about to happen. Before I could run in and stop him, it was too late.
“I tasted my pee, Mommy. It was yummy. Like salt water at the beach.”
I didn’t know what to do. I gagged a little. Then I got down on my knees to look in his eyes and emphatically explain why this was a bad idea, and he said “If I drink my pee, will I just pee it out again?!” And then I just had to leave the room.
Now when things like this happen … I mentally retreat to my girl’s weekend. This makes me happy. It reminds me I’m not just a mother dealing with the weirdest things imaginable, I’m Harmony Hobbs. I’m in love with Robbie Hobbs. I am a writer. I ran full-speed through the Atlanta airport wearing flip flops and an unsupportive bra, and I caught my flight. I hand-sewed a stuffed lion’s armpit to keep the stuffing from coming out. I can DO things.
A little pee-drinking seems surmountable. I mean, it’s just pee.
Have I mentioned that school has started?