Village People

My dog crapped in the bathroom and Chamblee stepped in it. At first, by the sound of her screams, I thought she might've actually flushed Owlie down the toilet. She was understandably devastated. While I was scrubbing her feet, one of the eggs that I had pulled out of the refrigerator just prior to the screams fell off the counter. I guess I never noticed how yellow an egg yolk was until it landed on my favorite rug in the kitchen. It's bright yellow, people. Bright.

Not that you care, but I have started running again. I just totally forgot how good it feels. When I got pregnant with Josephine I had low levels of HTC? HCG? I can't remember which one is the pregnant one and which one is marijuana. Either way, my levels were very, very low. So I quit running. ((I just googled it. It's THC, the marijuana. See also: I'm dyslexic)) But I'm back. I love our YMCA up in these parts. I can run and simultaneously look into the Ypod. (See what they did there?) In other words, I can make sure that it's not MY baby screaming without getting off the treadmill. #winning
The only problem is, well, I'm a nuisance. When I am at home or in the car I like some banjo, some good lyrics and a whole lot of stand up bass. When I am running I need a better beat. Like, 2002, Nelly and Luda (aka L-O-V-A, L-O-V-A) and maybe a little Dynamite. (remember that? If you're new to the blog, don't click the link. I'll lose you forever.)
I'm the girl on the treadmill throwing my hands like I'm in a music video and rolling my head and mouthing the lyrics. I mean, it's true. Today when that Whistle song came on my shuffle -do you know what song I'm talking about?- Anyway, I started whistling. You guys. Out loud. I don't know how long I was doing it before I realized that it was happening. Because I couldn't HEAR myself. Can you imagine being next to me on the treadmill? I can't even. Somebody buy me a treadmill so I don't go in public anymore. Oh, honestly. 

After the gym we went to Publix for a few things and, well. Jake has a strong, strong opinion about going into his car seat. Very strong. So when we were leaving and he saw the van, he collapsed, and I hate to admit it but he's kind of stronger than me. Not the two-handed, I-work-out me, but the I'm-carrying-a-car-seat-and-groceries-on-the-other-hand-me. So there I am, politely saying, "Jacob. Use your legs, buddy" for about three minutes. (Do you KNOW how long that is in the middle of the parking lot?)

I can't let go of his hand and no part of me can swipe him up in one swoop. He loves me, so he eventually stood up and hung his head the rest of the way to the van. Kickin' rocks. We got half way to pick Cham up from school and I noticed he was missing a shoe. And then I said this:

So I turned around. Drove back. And there it was. In the parking spot next to his bucket of tears. 

We finally made it to Chamblee's school, way too early. So I thought I would nurse Jbird until carpool started. That was a good plan. Until I got her out of the seat and she had defecated through three layers of onesies and jammies and jackets. How does that HAPPEN. She's so small. I can't even. So the next twenty minutes were dedicated to that and then we were late for the carpool line. Naturally. 

Also, have any of you ever almost died of smell? I'm pretty sure I almost died of smell today.

Until Next Time,
The Guff