Neighbor’s dogs are barking frantically…

Pop: Hear the doggies, [Spawn]? Wanna go get some poison?

Spawn and I giggle.

I went out to have beer and wings with the old professors tonight.

I am drunk.

I have a feeling that I will never see any of them again, and not just because half of them are chain smokers. I will miss them so terribly, but it’s time to move and move on and grow up.

Although, I’m pretty sure I’m too old to bother with growing up at this point.

Did I mention I am drunk?

And happy?

And sad.

I’m going to make paperdolls out of pamphlets and draw smiley faces on my fingertips.

My mother gave me two copies of my book to sign for family members before she gives them as gifts. After I told my grandmother a little about it, she said,

“I always wondered why those old fairy tales were so terrifying. You should rewrite all of them. You’d make a million.”

While I was helping my mother set the table, I saw my grandmother reading it. After lunch, she said,

“Honey, I just think you are brilliant.”

Now, I certainly don’t think I’m brilliant. Fairest is just a re-told fairy tale, one without a drop of magic in it, and definitely not my best work, but it sure was nice to hear something wonderfully positive about my book. And signing them, even if it was for my mom, well, I felt like a rock star for about 5 minutes.

Since tomorrow is Father’s Day and my mother’s mother is staying with my parents this weekend, I took Spawn to visit them. At one point, my grandmother said, “[Summa], what size bra are you wearing?” This began an hour-long conversation about wearing the incorrect bra size. The only reason I can guess she brought it up is that she thinks I’m wearing the wrong size bra but just never said, “You need a bigger/smaller bra.”

She looks like she feels better, and she is taking less medicine. She misses my grandfather and not being with him, but as she said, “Sometimes, you just have to let it go.”

I know I often write about how hard it is to raise my son. Good things happen, funny things. Having a toddler is like watching non-stop slapstick. However, I don’t think people share the bad things enough. I know that my pregnancy alone introduced my OB to situations she had not yet encountered, so I try to share these things. I’m not a very positive person, and I feel like, in a way, these little bits and pieces of home horror might better prepare those of you who will one day choose (and some will actively plan) to have a child.

Fluffy: Gih

Spawn: Gih

Fluffy: Guh

Spawn: Guh

Fluffy: Dee

Spawn: Dee

Me: Don’t teach the baby to say, “Giggity!”

I called my brother to wish him a happy birthday. He was at the beach with his wife and her family. The two couples were out while his mother-in-law kept the kids. He was d-runk and getting drunker when he answered my call.

“I hope you aren’t driving,” I said.

“No, [wife] is the D-D tonight.” Loud noises in the background (everything his wife and her family do is fucking loud.) “Hey, hey…” his voice drops low. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’m going to tell you a secret.”

I was suddenly filled with terror that he was going to tell me his wife was expecting #3. Their son is a future cult leader (or The Antichrist), and their daughter is on the path to becoming Honey Boo-Boo. I held my breath.

“I bought a dirt bike. Don’t tell Mom and Dad.”

For the love, he’s 40 years old and still afraid of our parents.

Spawn didn’t sleep more than 45 minutes at a time last night, reminiscent of his first few months of life. He just woke up bawling. My best guess is that he’s afraid of shadows.

We accepted an offer on our house. Let’s hope the inspection and appraisal go well so we can be done with this place by mid-July.