Today was my 34th birthday and the celebrations were...different, shall we say. First I stumbled through a zumba class that I usually rock, because my knee was acting up again. By the time I got home, my knee had stiffened up agonizingly to the point that I had to use my other hand to bend and lift my leg to get out of the driver's seat of the car. It took me a long five minutes to drag my immobile leg up the stairs, interspersed with a shriek of pain when I accidentally put some weight on it.
While I ran the bath water, I pumped some of the milk out of my excessively large boobs. This looked about as attractive as a dairy cow attached to a milking machine.
Thankfully Jay had been able to get Sass down for her nap and Little Man was resting peacefully in his bassinet, so the house was quiet. Just as I started to really relax into the bath water, the door flew open. Jay stood there holding a grinning, naked Sass by the upper arm. "You would not believe what our daughter has done," he said with a crazed look on his face.
It turns out Sass was not sleeping like an angel during her nap as we thought. She was stripping, pulling off her diaper, pooping on the carpet, stepping in it and then running laps around her room. Thank God she refrained from jumping on the bed.
I scrambled awkwardly out of the bath tub and started wiping Sass off, as Jay had gone into a minor state of shock when he saw the room and had just rushed her over to the bathroom, poo tail still hanging out of her bum. As I threw the toilet paper into the toilet, my hair fell into my eyes and I brushed it away in annoyance. That's when I discovered I had gotten some poo on my hand, which I had just run through my hair. Shit highlights! Fantastic!
Jay plunked Sass into the bath tub, where she began whooping and dancing around like she was at an amusement park, until she suddenly flung herself onto her stomach and began drinking the bath water. Once Jay managed to wrestle her mouth away from the E. Coli stew, we wrapped her up in a towel and tried to dress her. This resulted in flailing and screaming as if we were branding her with a cattle iron rather than putting a diaper and pants on her.
Since she hadn't actually slept, Sass threw pretty much continuous temper tantrums for the rest of the day, including such angelic behaviour as trying to pull my mother's pants off when my family came to visit, slapping my sister in the boob and attempting to rip Little Man's blanket (with him in it) right out of Jay's arms. I felt sorry for her because she was so tired, but really. My sister, who doesn't have kids, asked in a confused tone, "Why doesn't she just go to sleep if she's tired?" Good fucking question.
So happy shitty birthday to me! (I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist.)
How the glamorous have fallen.