So, last night I posted this picture of myself on Instagram.
Now, I have yet to be carted off to either of my desired vacation destinations (fingers crossed!), but guys, it was just one of those days that turned into one of those nights.
Vin’s brother, Dan, is getting married to wonderful Kate in October and yesterday was their wedding shower. As is usual with family gatherings, getting ready proved to be chaotic since I had to get the kids bathed, their hair done, and clothes laid out since they weren’t coming to the majority of the shower (thank you sweet Jesus for those two uninterrupted hours of adult interaction and for all the wine. Amen). My father-in-law, the father of the bride, and Dan were tasked with dressing the kids and bringing them at the end of the shower to make an appearance. So I had to make sure I drilled all of the info about which dress/shoes went with which child into my dear sweet father-in-law’s head. He is a good, kind, man, but we can all agree that he knows nothing about children’s fashion. I can say this because it’s true and also because he’s flying to Spain literally right this minute and won’t be back for a month, so I fear no retribution.
Story Time Out! Okay, right now I want you to close your eyes and visualize something with me. Conjure up this image: It’s a crazy frazzled me…rushing around like a crazy frazzled person…a crazy frazzled person with a black and blue thumb ’cause it got smacked by a hammer two days before…now imagine that you are crazy frazzled me attempting to wrestle yourself into Spanx with a mangled thumb…also imagine that these are the very same Spanx that you wore to your own wedding five years and three children ago…now give your crazy frazzled self a deadline of two minutes to get this task accomplished. Please make sure you visualize lots of grunting, straining, and sweat which makes your hair frizzy. Everybody savor this image for a moment. Okay. Back to the story.
What this plan actually meant was that the men showed up at the end of the shower and the kids were completely adorable…at least as adorable as they could be running around like crazy people, drinking iced tea and making pit stops at the cake table where they used their dirty fingers to scoop leftover edge icing off of the cake plate. Thank God this thing was at a winery because…wine, duh.
Needless to say folks were worn out by the time we got home, but it was one of those situations in which we were well past nap time but we were to the point where you just gotta push ’em to stay awake because Heaven help you if they fall asleep too close to bedtime. This is the point at which we listen to techno music as loud as possible to keep people from sleeping in the car.
So, we were enjoying a peaceful dinner with the family when all hell broke loose. And by “peaceful dinner” I hope you know I mean that I was literally up and down a kazillion times cutting meat, buttering corn, getting water, cutting more meat, being chastised for cutting more meat when what they meant by “more meat” was “more mushrooms, dammit!” and I just didn’t get that translation because I’m clearly the most stupid person alive ever. And there were tears and complaints and whining and lots of screaming from the baby who now thinks that the best way to communicate is just to shriek. He gets that from his sisters. Obvs.
So it was a peaceful dinner
after I banished the girls to the other room to watch TV because I was trying not to kill them and I was just getting up to give Ev a bottle (and was eyeing another bottle of wine for myself) when all hell broke loose.
She. Bit. My. Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiipppppppppllllleeeeeee!! She bit my nipple! My niiiiiiiipplllleeeeeeee!!!!!!! Waaaaaaaahhhhhhhh baaaaaahhhh hhaaaaa!!!!!!!
I actually laughed at first because it was pretty funny. But then I saw the bleeding wound and changed my tune.
“Shit! This is really bad!” Shit!! She’s gonna say ‘shit’ at preschool!!
So Vin took the victim to dress the wound (’cause he’s basically a Civil War surgeon) and I took the perpetrator to see what the eff was going through her head. And Dan and Kate took a moment to share a meaningful glance that said, “Awww, hell naw! We are not having kids!!”
I feel the need to add that we’re big on being anatomically correct at our house. Therefore, people are obsessed with nipples lately. Like, the other day I hear Lily say from the back seat, “This is my nipple!” and Mags corrected her, “No, Lily. That’s not your nipple. That’s your foot.” Awesome. But for somebody who seems to have it all down, Mags definitely needs to revisit the nipple location lesson because she definitely was not bitten on her nipple. It was really closer to her armpit than anything. Definitely not nipple. (And I can’t wait to see what creepy search terms lead people to this blog now that I’ve written the word ‘nipple’ seven hundred million times in one post. Nipple.)
So after Mags’ not-nipple was bandaged and Lily was admonished that, “We use our teeth to eat and talk. We do NOT use our teeth to hurt people,” a talk that I’m certain she took to heart.
Until the next time.
And there’s always a next time.