Lest Y'all Worry...

I survived Camille's visit, and I managed to maintain minimal contact with Swamp Thing. I even timed it so I arrived a little later than I'd told her I'd be there, knowing it would render Camille anxious to leave and Swamp Thing equally anxious to be rid of her, and hopefully Swamp Thing would throw Camille out the door without a word.

So Camille gets in my Sexy Minivan and immediately comments that it's messy.

Yeah, I know.

She and Pie chatted a bit on the 2-minute ride home, and what does the child say upon entering my house?

Sarah, your house is really messy!

Ok, FIRST of all, ya little snot, that's MRS. KARMA to you. And second of all, so the fuck what? I really didn't even think it was that bad, really. Then, she says...

Well, I could help you clean it up!

It was sweet of her to offer, and for a minute I entertained the thought of taking her up on it, but then I realized how fucked up that was for a kid to offer to help me clean my house instead of playing with her friend like a kid is supposed to. I thought it would be more fun to throw her little 6-year-old universe out of balance and introduce her to the fact that NOT EVERYONE HAS AN IMMACULATE HOUSE.

Your mother is not normal, sweetheart. It's time you knew.

I said, "No, Camille, it's okay. Why don't you guys just go... be kids."

And they played all day, which was great, and then I took them to school and didn't have to deal with the Swamp Thing. Bravo, me.

That was Wednesday. Thursday was Valentine's Day. I know R can't do anything for me, really. It's all right. I just don't let it keep me from doing something for him. I got him a Sting CD called Songs From the Labyrinth. And I asked him to pick me up a bag of caramels. And Tito made me a pin and a key chain.

The real drama of Thursday was when I took Pie to swimming. When we got there, we realized Pie didn't have his swimsuit. He looks forward to swimming all week long. This swimming class is run by the group who did the camp that he loved so much last year, the one I drove 45 minutes each way every day for two weeks - one week in West Jesus and one week in South Jesus.

So of course I couldn't stand to see Pie cry, and as it turned out, it wasn't his fault. He had packed the swimsuit in his bag and for some inexplicable reason Tito took it out before we left. So we went home to get it. It should only have taken us 20-25 minutes, max, to go home and back. It took over an hour.

By the time we got back my gas light was on, and they were into the second session of the class. They let Pie swim anyway, which was nice, but that meant I didn't get home until an hour later than usual, and R had to make his own dinner on Valentine's Day. I felt horrible about that. Plus, I was starving and all they had in the vending machine at the YMCA was health food. Don't give me that shit, give me a fuckin Snickers, for cryin out loud.

Friday I had an ASSLOAD of shit I needed to do. The first thing I had to do was drop Tito off, then hope against hope that I had enough gas to get the Sexy Minivan to QT. Then I had to go to the bank, the post office, the other bank, something else I'm forgetting - oh, the grocery store, and Walmart and I only had 3 hours to do it all. Then I had to get a baby shower gift for one of R's cousins that we see about once every three years, but not the one who stares at my rack all the time. She's in Hawaii.

Anyway, I busted a nut running around, came home and realized I needed a gift bag for the party the boys were going to at Anti-Stella's. I knew Anti-Stella wouldn't care if I didn't have a gift bag, but you know me. I got home with about 30 seconds to get everyone in the Sexy Minivan and leave for the party at the time that we were supposed to be there. And it was a really great party. The boys loved it. Kudos to Travis!

Then after that, all five of us went to the mall to look for a baby shower gift. I was thinking I was so bloody tired I wanted to go to bed and then go shopping in the morning, but R quite wisely reminded me that I would be under tremendous time constraints tomorrow since I was meeting MIL and Mrs. Aldi at The Aldi's house at 12:30.

We got some cute little baby clothes at Old Navy. And no offense to the pregnant people who don't want to know if they're having a boy or a girl, but it's a pain in the ass to shop for you. And I guarantee, you're gonna be so sick of yellow and green within about two weeks, you're going to puke.

Anyway, Saturday was the Baby Shower. I offered to drive everyone in my Sexy Minivan. The thing I hate most about hanging with the inlaws is that NO ONE knows how to carry on a conversation. That's FIL's fault. He lectures while everyone else smiles and nods. I'll even say that my own husband's not exactly a converstionalist with anyone but me. And you know what a chatterbox I am, right? It's hard to talk to someone who doesn't know how to converse. You'd probably hate to sit next to me on a plane; I'll try to get you to talk to me. Yes, I'm THAT person.

Oh, and get this shit - I show up, and once MIL arrives, Aldigirl gets up from the sofa and puts her jacket on like she's coming with us. Um... I didn't bring MY kid. The invitation didn't say "Sarah and Beebie". Not that I think anyone would care, really, I just couldn't believe it when Mrs. Aldi asked MIL,

Oh, do you think it would be ok if Aldigirl comes too?

I'm so sick of Mrs. Aldi's complete and alarmingly consistent lack of fucking manners, I said, YES I SAID -

Well, I obviously didn't bring Beebie...

I don't even know why Aldigirl wanted to go, and I couldn't believe that her mother wouldn't try to discourage her. I mean, hell, it's a bunch of old women eating quiche and spinach salad and carrot cake and swapping sordid tales of colic and explosive diarrhea. I didn't even want to go, and I can appreciate a good poop story.

But MIL, in her infinite sweetness, said that she was sure it would be okay if Aldigirl attended the shower. What the fuck ever. So we went. And there was a disturbing lack of liquor. I mean, what, because the guest of honor can't drink you can't put out Mimosas for the rest of us? Shit, you don't even have to go that classy, I'll take a fuckin Jack and Coke at this point, seriously. But I hung out with R's cool catty cousin Nita so it was okay.

Sunday was Pie's birthday party. The theme of the party was Gross Stuff. We had cups in the shape of trash cans, barf bags for party favors,

a pinata in the shape of a runny nose,



dirt cups with gummy worms,



and a kitty litter cake!




I had two games planned. One involved pulling rubber worms and lizards out of a bowl of cold, wet, Rice Krispies and the other was a Fear Factor Food Challenge.

Everybody liked the first game, but I guess I thought more kids would do the food challenge. It was basically Pie eating a bunch of shit. He ate a Vienna Sausage, cold cream corn, and a beet, but he passed on the sardine packed in mustard.