The irony

I'm sitting here singing in my mind a song that Logan has been obsessed with lately.
The refrain goes:
"It's a beautiful day, for running in the sun. A beautiful day, and I want to share it with you..."

I'm going to share this beautiful day with you.
Oh, and forewarning in case I know you and you think I am sweet, I'm going to cuss like a sailor. Sorry, today is a day it must be done.
We'll start at about 12:30 this morning...like midnight 12:30.

Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night and before you even move you know you have a stomach bug. Your stomach is churning and you realize that you can not just roll over and go back to sleep.
I spent 4 hours going from the bed to the toilet to the floor in the bathroom, back to the bed, back to the toilet. I won't get any more involved, but lets just say it sucked. It was a good thing I didn't have that epidural with Miles because I would have said it was as bad of pain as labor. But, not having the epi with him, I know it wasn't THAT bad. I did have some labor breathing involved though, if you must know.
In between all of the trips, we had a storm from hell and I was praying that one of the kids didn't wake up. They didn't, thank you Jesus. I have no idea how they slept through it all. It was so loud that IF Miles would have started crying, I would have had no clue even though his door is right outside my door. So, add in trips in the hallway making sure no one was awake too terrified to cry out.
Finally at 4:30 I fell asleep for the night.
In the morning (as if I really slept at all, Miles was up at 6:00am) I weighed myself and realized that I lost 5 lbs in the middle of the night. OK, so one good thing came from it all.
As I was getting dressed, I noticed something strange. My hernia incision was...buldging.
Even though I pressed a towel hard against my stomach in the midst of the night's purging, I think I blew the mother fucking stitches. ONE week after surgery.
Fuck.

After we said our goodbyes, my sister left at noon today.
I decided that it was a good day to take Miles to get his 18 month portraits done seeing he's pushing 19months.
Do you know what I hate the most about going to places like Sears and Penneys? The fact that they DON'T listen.
"I'm really easy. I want plain backgrounds-no pattern or prints. I'd rather not have any props. If you must have a prop, a chair would be OK, but nothing white. (I see white chairs and think girl plus I really like the pictures to be of the child, not the ugly ass sand toys that don't match the outfit or the completely stained gross teddy bear that isn't his) I don't want columns or numbers. As soon as ONE GOOD PICTURE is taken, we're good. I'm getting the package and I only want ONE GOOD PICTURE."

So, when picture number 2 was perfect and I said "GREAT! Let's be done!" please tell me why she says, "sorry, but we have to take 6 pictures at the minimum."
"So, after asking Logan for the umpteenth time to sit down and stop throwing teddy bears at his brother, I preceded to grab Miles and bring him back to the floor approximately 17 times. Do you know what picture I ordered. Number 2.
The sweat, tears, frustration was a complete waste of my time.
Good news is is that the picture is DAMN cute and I can't wait to get them.

I want Dave to come home. I don't want to have another surgery.
I don't want to take Logan to the opthamologist appt tomorrow, but it is part of his yearly regimen to monitor his brain cyst growth. I know it will be fine, I just don't want to watch him cry when he realizes he needs eye drops.
If I were a smoker, today would be the day that I'd be out on the deck.
Instead, I put the kids to bed and had a healthy supper consisting of Cocoa Puffs, thank you very much.

Here's to tomorrow truly being a 'beautiful day'!