Exhaustipated
I’m wiped out, kids. Erik was going nuts this morning and I had to do something. I thought about taking him to the gym, then just sitting in the handicap shower stall and reading my book for 90 minutes but that seemed pretty lame. I thought about taking it easy with treadmill walking, but was feeling so poorly I didn’t think I could handle it. Then I thought about the open gym. Off we went for an hour of trampoline bouncing (for him) and staring into space for me. He was brave today and swung on a rope over the foam pit. His new name is apparently Diego. And thus it begins. . . big boy childhood.
They are having summer camp at the gym, so when we arrived there were about 20 tweener girls running around and one lone tweener boy. Erik was ecstatic. Oh. My. God. You should have seen him! He ran right over to a group of leotard clad girls and did his Joey impression. I should never have watched so much Friends while I was nursing him. He has the “How you doin’?” line down pat. They were delighted to entertain the little heart breaker, but thankfully they had to go out for lunch so he got to play with the equipment instead of hog the attention of little tweeny-boppers. He is so going to be the boy who signs up for gymnastics day camp just so he can have a harem of little girls all day.
After open gym closed, he was still feisty so we headed over to the indoor mall playground. I thought I could sit and die while he ran around, but I was oh-so-wrong. He was not interested in the playground. He was interested in walking around Macy’s picking up shoes, admiring fine China, and fondling scantily clad mannequins. They had this one lingerie mannequin in middle of the aisle. It was wearing a thong. I don’t think I’m a prude, but it was pretty gross. Why do I want to see mannequin ass? I don’t! But Erik does. He walked up and started rubbing it’s butt, saying it was pretty.
We finally went to the playground and stood there about three seconds.
He ran me all over that awful mall. I broke out into one of those cold, clammy sick sweats and eventually brought him home. By that time I was totally wiped out and could barely think. I only got him up the stairs by promising him he could take his clothes off when we got home.
We are going to have a major problem when we go visit my family. My mom is very anti-nudity. We are all about the nudity. I generally don’t put on pants until I have to go out. When I get back home I often go potty and my pants somehow fall off. Pants are evil.
At least I leave my shirt on.
Erik wants it all off. My mom is always complaining to me that my sister lets Laynee run around the house naked, but I fail to see how this is a problem. When Erik and Laynee are together they are going to encourage each other and it’s going to be two weeks of naked two year olds, methinks.
Can you bear another cute Erik story? No? Don’t read the next paragraph then.
His new thing is to stick a tissue or wipe up his butt and run around the house yelling that he’s pooping.
I found the e-mail address of my very favorite, most influential high school teacher. I want to e-mail her, but how can I tell her my day involves watching my kid pretend to poop?
That darling kid went to bed an hour ahead of schedule tonight, which means I got to do some quilting! I finished another Dear Jane block and only have two more to go to hit 50! Let’s do some kind of happy dance, shall we? Maybe the salsa? I love the salsa. Those two will be finished tomorrow after I get Mike to help me take a couple of pictures. I’m putting together a couple of tutorials for the DJ livejournal group. It’s not easy to take a picture of yourself sewing, but it’s also not easy to get your husband to care. Not saying Mike won’t do it if I ask, but this is his hell week at work so he’d rather be sleeping when I have time to strike a sewing pose.
I think I better go to bed now. I hope my cold is completely gone by tomorrow. All hail the power of Airborne! Even though I am wiped out, I don’t feel like utter shit like yesterday. I know my dear, sweet white blood cells were doing their job. I swear they are like naughty cats. They go out and kill nasty viruses and icky bacteria, then instead of disposing of them properly they have to come show off. Look, lady we live in! Look what we did! We killed the big nasties! They bring all their gunk to the surface of my skin, giving pimples that would rival a high schooler. I’m grateful they are doing their jobs, but do I really have to pat their heads and give them a treat when they finish?
On that lovely note, I’m out of here.