Riding home from the grocery store, Ry sees me flipping through a magazine I had picked up at the checkout. He says to me, very concerned, “Mommy you can’t read that! You’re not on the potty!”
It seems I only read magazines while on the potty. To read one anywhere else goes against everything ry understands of the world.
I wasn’t lying when I said I can’t even take a shit without an audience.
I keep forgetting to check my haiku email address. so when I did this morning I had three!! Three most excellent ones, see for yourself.
I think we should do some olympic themed haiku now. the best one will get a gold medal.
overcoming insurmountable odds.
seriously folks, you can’t make this up.
I did get pretty excited watching the men’s relay race in swimming though. suck it france!
no no I’m sorry france I don’t mean it, don’t suck it. I love you. I love you and we make croissant babies, oui?
or whatever it is. off in china. you know.
the last time the summer olympics were on, I had just had ryland. we spent the majority of our long long nights watching it. me and him. mostly me, as his face was permanently attached to my boob. night after night I’d sit in my chair or on the couch, feeding ryland, feeling sad and happy and tired and awake, watching the athletes do their thing. it was a crazy time and very emotional and I have such warm feelings about it all. I miss those days. They were hard, but I miss them. I loved our little apartment in tucson, and I loved sitting in the dark with Ry feeding him and just feeling like I’d done something right, watching pole vaulters or swimmers or divers or whoever was on, and it was nice and cool in our place and so quiet and I felt like no one else in the world was awake.
the olympics though, they are kind of boring.
here is a funny entry I wrote about the winter olympics two years ago.
I’m allowed to think I’m funny right? or is that kind of a douchebag asshole thing? I suppose it is, but truth is, I don’t fucking care. because I think I’m hilarious and that’s good enough for me.