three more work days
|I stayed in bed sick all day yesterday. Nothing serious, really. Just a head cold and I was up all night. So I called in to work and watched Oprah get her ears pierced. This will be my last week of work. Hallelujah. I'll probably go nuts, being at home, by myself, and not in labor. It did occur to me yesterday that I need to unearth the changing table. Thank goodness there was a Baby Story marathon on or it might not have hit me. I imagine that Owen's room will be our de facto kitchen for a while still.
I did end up going to the parish council meeting last night. I swear, someone needs to make a reality show about those meetings. They are nothing but pure entertainment. They go something like this:
Priest: "The handout I'm passing around outlines some of the ways we plan on marketing our parish. Item one is our plan to communicate and promote who and what we are as a Franciscan faith community".
Angry Popeye: "What? What does that mean?"
Argumentative Doctor: "Are we going to become Jehovah's Witnesses? I'm not going door-to-door!"
Priest: "This is just a proposal that we'd like to take to a committee. It will be fleshed out at a later date".
Angry Popeye: "I'm not voting for anything that I don't understand. What does it MEAN!??!"
Argumentative Doctor: "You can't ask people to go door-to-door. It will turn people away!"
Priest, exasperated: "No one is asking anyone to go door-to-door. This is just a mission statement for a committee. No specific action is associated with it".
Associate Priest: "I think we should use the phrase 'What can Brown do for You?'"
OK, that doesn't actually capture the insanity of the meetings. Just picture a lot of really angry old people, pounding their fists on the table and going off all half-cocked at every suggestion. Maybe EWTN wants to get into the reality show game.
So...how will I not go insane when I'm off of work? There's a La Leche League meeting next week. What else can I do? Walk a bunch at the mall I suppose (while managing not to buy anything). I could really use a day camp for adults right now. With craft projects, a weenie roast and maybe a talent show.
I got a horrid haircut on Friday. I was chatting away with the stylist lady about birthing customs in different countries (she is from Iraq and had her babies there) and the next thing know, she had taken 3" off. So I look exactly like the little boy from Who's the Boss. Leo took one look at me and pointed out that this is how I will be remembered in all of Owen's birth pictures. And, many years from now, we will have to answer Owen when he asks how an 8 year old boy could have given birth to him. At least I won't have to get it cut again for a while.