For those of you wondering why Sunday is throwing up, fear not. Sunday Regurgitation occurs every Sunday, when I link to a prior post of mine, because I am trapped under something heavy and am unable to write anything original or riveting. Hopefully someone will notice I’m missing, remove whatever is suffocating me and I’ll be back to normal by tomorrow. But just in case … think of me fondly.
Zoe turned fifteen recently. Because she’s at that age known as I AM IMPOSSIBLE TO BUY FOR AND PROUD OF IT, I had a mental list of possible gift ideas ready and waiting, in case anyone needed suggestions. Among other things, she wound up getting some Bare Essentials makeup, a spa treatment, iTunes gift cards, jewelry and a seventeen year old boyfriend.
Guess which one wasn’t on the list?
Yesterday, she told me he had invited her over to his house and she asked if she could go.
And I said OVER MY DEAD BODY which came out like brzzzzzzzzzzzzzpts twrrg oooomptsssssss and then I blacked out.
I miss my baby. When she told me that “A” had asked her out, I just wanted to shove her right back into my uterus and waddle around my house, feeling my belly and wondering whether she was going to have hair or not.
I wound up letting her go over his house.
I’ll go into all the gory details another time. For now, I’ll leave you with the post I did last year which foreshadowed this entire scenario: Another milestone
I never thought I’d miss gaining fifty pounds so that my uterus could sustain life and play trampoline on my bladder.
But I do.