Hello, lover. Thy name is couch.

That’s right, I’m back for a some more. Last night wasn’t quite enough for my insatiable sofalust. Allergy season has brought back a little blast from the past: a dry and coughy throat, sultry nights on the couch downstairs, and a precious teaspoon of my favorite cough syrup. Mmmm. Makes being a little under the weather kind of fun!

These evenings aren’t really so bad. I liken them to the occasional business trip, only my business is still in my house, I’m not being paid, and I still have to get up in the middle of the night to attend to someone.

My husband and I took the girls to their doctor last week for two shots (hepatitis A and tetanus), and to get measured and weighed and checked out. The nurse practitioner said, “Don’t tell me they’re still on bottles.” Which I sheepishly admitted to, but once we left, I didn’t feel so bad about it. She also said they should be sleeping through the night at this point.

My question to her might be: “Did you have twins? Because if you did, I seriously doubt you’d be saying this shit to me.” That’s not very nice of me, is it? I actually like this woman and think she’s really good at what she does. It’s just that, I’m sorry, unless you have raised twins or larger orders of multiples, you just don’t know. You might think you do, but you don’t. Three o’clock in the morning rolls around and someone is hungry or has a poopy diaper, you go in and you change the diaper and give them a little snack. It just doesn’t seem like such a big deal to me. Maybe if I had to get up and go to a full-time job the next morning I’d have a different attitude. You actually have to pretend to be coherent at jobs if I recall correctly. People assume you’ve looked at yourself before leaving the house, bathed recently, and have communicated with other adults on the regular. But that’s not my life at all! Mine is a more primitive existence. Food, poop, sleep. Those are the big ones, everything else comes afterward. Except for kisses, of course. There are plenty of those and hugs to go around whenever they or I like.

That paragraph just got sappy. Moms and dads are sappy, tho. They can’t help it. I used my hubby’s camera to capture the beauty that is the pink snow in our neighborhood. Soon the pink cotton candy tree in front of our house will lose all its blooms and sink to a lowly green once again, until fall when it will drop its leaves, then bare in the winter. Next spring is a long time away.

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