Tales from La La Land

So, right after Harper was born, I started noticing that I couldn’t hear very well out of my left ear. The problem proceeded to get worse, and after asking Laef to repeat himself 400 times over the course of the last month, he insisted I go to the doctor.

I don’t know exactly what I thought the problem was, but I certainly was not prepared for them to tell me that I have otosclerosis and will have to have surgery to replace a bone in my ear. This condition is apparently common in women late in pregnancy or during menopause.

So, yes, this is yet another thing that I will be blaming on Harper. I mean, it’s not enough that I pee while jogging, average 4 hours of sleep per night, have a beer gut (without the enjoyment of beer), and brush out giant amounts of hair each morning.

No, I also have to be practically deaf in one ear.

Now I am wondering what could be next.

All joking aside,  it doesn’t matter all that much.

We just experienced our first holiday with Harper, and I have to say that it brought out the kid in both of us. We took her trick or treating (yes, she is only 4 months old and did not know what the hell was going on) Monday night, and our excitement level was quite high. We both realized that this might be the last year we can eat all of her candy without her throwing a giant fit.

When we started walking down the street and approached the first house, we stopped and looked at each other.

“What do we do? We just knock on the door, right?”

Yeah. OK.

I mean, it has been like 25 years since I have been trick or treating (I just barfed typing that) and like 6 years since Laef has gone. We were rusty.

Most of the houses in our neighborhood had bowls with candy on the porch. I don’t know if it’s because people were out with their own kids, or if that’s how it’s done these days. That’s not how it was done back when I was a kid, which is a good thing because I didn’t exactly follow instructions, and a note that says, “TAKE ONE ONLY” wouldn’t have meant shit to me. Actually, yes, it would have meant, “TAKE AS MUCH AS YOU WANT AND RUN AWAY FAST!”

I tried really hard to only take once piece to put in Harper’s trick or treat bag, but it was not easy.

Laef: “Remember, you are trying to set an example for her.”

Me: “Bah. Fine. But we can take three pieces. One for me, one for you and one for her. That is totally legit.”

Laef: “Oooh. Get that flavored tootsie roll.”

I mean, no matter how old you are, a bowl full of candy is a hard thing to resist.

And no matter how deaf, tired or decrepit you feel, spending the holidays with your kids will make you feel like a child all over again.

While Harper passed out from her first Halloween experience, Laef and I dumped all her candy on the table and took turns picking what we wanted. It was like the fantasy draft of candy picking, and of course the last thing left was some janky candy corn.

Candy Corn > Tebow.

I apologize in advance. I am breaking all my blog rules in this post. I don’t usually fawn all over Laef here.

When we decided to do the coupons for Valentine’s Day, I figured hilarity would ensue. But, after using two ideas that came off those coupons, I don’t have much to say that won’t gross you out.

On Sunday, we went on a 5-mile hike in Brentwood. We ate a picnic lunch at the top of the hill, talked for an hour about anything and everything. It was a gorgeous day – not too hot, and we were able to see LA from the ocean to the Hollywood sign. It was a great day.

When we got in the car, Laef said: “That was so fun. Are you going to blog about it?”

Me: “I don’t know. I really don’t want to brag about our perfect day. I was counting on you to do something that would make it funny.”

Laef: “You peed. Twice.”

So, there was that. I can no longer make it more than 30 minutes without having to go pee. I was trying not to drink too much water so that I wouldn’t have to go every 3 seconds. But then my hands got totally swollen from me being dehydrated. You just can’t win in the game of pregnancy, I tell ya.

When we got home, we took a nap. Prior to falling asleep we read about Week 24 of pregnancy. More glamorous things coming, including a dark line that goes the entire length of my stomach. And the book mentioned something called skin tags. (WHATEVER you do, don’t google image that shit).

Me: “Thank God I don’t have that. Gross.”

Laef: …

Me: “What?”

Laef: “You have one. Let me show you.”

Me: “WHAT?! Why didn’t you tell me???”

So, I have an iddy-biddy tiny one on my boob. OF COURSE Laef knows EXACTLY where it is.

Supposedly it will fall off after pregnancy.

We can hope.

Anyway, yesterday was Valentine’s Day and Laef decided that he wanted to cook dinner for me. This is also one of the coupons. I got a text from him during the day with a giant grocery list of things he would need for this dinner.

I immediately worried about what he was taking on with this meal. I cook almost every night for us, but let me be honest. Some of those nights are soup and sandwiches, bean burritos, Cesar salad. I’m certainly not whipping up anything special on weeknights.

Then I got another text about an hour later: “I also need everything for red velvet cake and 24 oz. of white chocolate.”

At this point I am really worried for Laef. Not that he can’t do it, but that he has no idea what he is taking on. The only time I bake AND cook a difficult meal is on the weekend when I can start early and take a nap somewhere in the middle of it. It is a lot of work. Especially baking. It’s exhausting.

But, I oblige his requests and get everything at the store. I was tempted to get him 2 lemons instead of the 4 he requested to see if he would stomp his foot and say, “Baby wanted 4 lemons!”

He started cooking dinner at 6:45 ish. He didn’t want any help so I watched my shows and was dying to go into the kitchen to assess.

At 8 p.m. he presented me with this:

Are you fucking serious? I was speechless. It’s Chicken Piccata. And it was really, really good.

And this is the thing about Laef. He doesn’t really like cooking. Or doing dishes. Or doing chores. But when he starts something, he goes all the way. It would never occur to him that making me dinner on Valentine’s Day would be something simple.

The dinner would have been plenty. However, when we were done he kicked me out of the kitchen again and at 8:30 p.m. he started with his dessert.

At 10 p.m., I finally asked if I could please come in there because it is now past my bed time and he has been cooking for 3.5 hours. He says yes, and I stumbled upon cake balls:

So, he had to make a cake. Mash it in the mixer with frosting. Create little balls, and then dip them in white chocolate.

A. Lot. Of. Work.

And looking at him in the kitchen working so hard just melted me. I am really trying not to gross you out, but it was one of the sweetest thing I have ever seen.

I had two cake balls and went to bed. I have no idea what time Laef got done and came to bed.

He told me this morning: “I’m so tired. I don’t know how you do it. I really appreciate everything you do and making dinners and taking care of all that stuff.”

I make fun of Valentine’s Day because I think people get suckered into spending money. But if it gives us an opportunity to do something for each other that we normally wouldn’t and helps us appreciate and love each other for all we bring to the table, then I’m all for it.

Because I certainly am not looking forward to doing all the dishes. I really appreciate that I don’t have to worry about those everyday.

I’ve written about Valentine’s Day before. We are not big Valentine’s Day people. I don’t remember the last time we exchanged gifts. I tend to think of it as sort of a sham the same way I think of Baby Registries and Wedding planning. I don’t feel any less loved if I don’t get roses on February 14.

Also, I might have gotten a ticket for “running a red light” in Santa Monica. I disagree whole heartedly with this ticket as there would not have been ample time for me to stop at the yellow without slamming on my breaks. Unfortunately, whole heartedly doesn’t mean shit – not even during Valentine’s month – in the LA court system and I had to pay … $480 FUCKING DOLLARS.

I won’t go into the pain that writing this check caused me. The stroller I registered for is less than this. The camera I want so that I can start documenting our lives without a cell phone camera is about the same price. I could have decorated the entire nursery for this much. It stabbed me in the heart like you wouldn’t believe.

But, as Laef said, “It’s over. It’s done. And it means we are definitely not doing Valentine’s this month.”

However, yesterday I was killing time at the bookstore on campus and I stumbled upon the “Valentine’s Day” table. There are books about hot sex and romantic dates. There are pink and red stuffed animals. Chocolates.

And coupon books.

Tons of coupon books.

You know the sort of thing that people used to make for free on their home computer with little coupons that said, “A blow job whenever you want”?

Now the industry has taken that phenomenon and stolen it for itself. To quote Matt Damon, I dropped $5.99 on a book of coupons that I could have gotten for 25 cents in toner ink at home.

I flipped through the coupon book and gave 200 side eyes at some of the shit written: “Kiss your partner so passionately that you both drop to your knees.”

Dude. If Laef and I even attempted that, we would bust up laughing immediately.

“Have your partner cook dinner for you.”

Um, this one is not that bad, actually.

“Spend an entire evening in the dark. Take a bath, eat dinner and watch a movie. All by candle light.”

No fucking way. Mostly because Laef is 8′ 2″ tall and we have tried to take a bath together once, and aside from the fact that he barely fits in the tub, we end up just staring at each other freezing cold because the water is below our entire bodies.

“Re-inact your first date.”

Doble. However, our first date was in Hawaii. But, I figure we could go to Manhattan Beach, close our eyes and pretend it is Hawaii. I will make Laef unhook my bra with one hand. No, seriously. He did that. And thought he was really awesome. I am amazed that we are married after that incident.

Anyway, there were a handful of coupons in the book, and it got me thinking.

Laef and I have exactly 4 months left of just him and I. Four months of the life we’ve known for 6 years. Four months of being able to do whatever we want, when we want, with no interruptions (this does not include making out until we fall to our knees). When Laef has a day off from work we struggle to come up with something to do together. We usually end up sitting around the house watching movies and taking naps.

I bought the coupon book and told Laef that we were going to pick out some of the ideas that were reasonable (a picnic, weekend getaway, him cooking me dinner) and do them. And then I am going to blog about them.

Everything was fine until I mentioned him cooking dinner and me filming it. I thought it would be funny. He was worried about his hair.

Fine. No filming.

He nodded yes, but I think he has some trepidations about us becoming “Valentine’s” people.

Will keep you posted on how we do. And, I promise: NO MAKE OUT OR BLOW JOB STORIES.

I’m not a big New Year resolution person. I think after 15 years of vowing to do something different/better/Oprah-esque only to wind up at December 31 as the exact same person I’ve always been, I realized that I’m just going to resolve to be me. And to be happy with the me that I am.

Besides, I’ve already given up drinking. And sushi. And I’m having a fucking baby in 2011. What more do I need to do to feel better about myself?

I did decide to try and be a lot more patient. Especially when it comes to driving around LA. So far so shitty, but there’s always tomorrow.

The holidays are gone and things have pretty much returned to normal. I loved having two weeks off. It was great to do things around the house, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to actually enjoying coming back to work. I like having a stable routine and things to do. I kept myself busy working around the house, but if I had to listen to Oprah talk about her tribe one more fucking day I was going to stab myself. Also, The View? Horrible. Of course all the good shows – Real Housewives, Top Chef – were on hiatus. Boo.

Other things I learned while spending too much time with my husband: Most things relating to pregnancy are best left to yourself. I was uber-excited about my new maternity underwear and when I showed Laef I am 99% certain that any thoughts of sexual activity disappeared for at least 22 days. He doesn’t need to see the huge clothes, the happy trail, the tears, the fears, the 12 pieces of Sees candy gone. He’s not going to be excited about the stroller I picked out or the swaddle blanket I bought. He is excited about one thing: the baby. I will try to remember that over the next 6 months.

The cat doesn’t give two shits about the baby, and in fact doesn’t like babies. We had our friends Allie and Greg over for New Years Eve. They brought their tiny baby over and Sanch thought it was another cat with a better blanket than him. He could not wrap his tiny brain around what it was. He explored, but was petrified. So, it should be fun teaching him that he will soon be second in line for cuddling and attention.

I wish I had better stories to tell. I wish I could tell you that we won Mega Millions and Laef gave me and extra $50 for spending money, but out of five tickets we had ZERO numbers. So we’re back to the grind, but as far as I can tell, 2011 is going to be like no other year!

I swear this is not suddenly a mommy blog where everything is “born” from here on out. But, if you had seen the process of Laef and I getting our first-ever Christmas tree, you might understand how it went from this blissful idea to a fucking trainwreck to a beautiful full-grown glistening tree that we are both so proud of!

This will be the first time Laef and I will be home on Christmas Day. We are usually visiting his family or my family. Therefore, I’ve never really gotten into the Christmas spirit at our house. It didn’t make much sense to me because we wouldn’t be home to enjoy the decorations or the tree. Not to mention, our house in Manhattan Beach was tiny, and we opted for a deep freezer in the middle of the living room, which trumped any idea of a Christmas tree. Or dining room table.

DETAILS.

Anyway, us being home + me being sober pregnant = me being really excited to have a project. My project has become Christmas. And when it comes to Christmas trees, I’m all about a real tree. I guess I am sticking to my childhood Christmas tree tradition which means: real tree, rainbow-colored lights and a smorgasbord of random ornaments that have been around for umpteen years. Our ornament collection will start this year and in 12 years our kids will ask about the random stuffed Santa ornament that mommy seems to love so much.

Child: “This is ugly. Why do you always put it right in the front?”

Me: “Bitch, please. Well, sweetie, back in 2010 when we got our first tree, we didn’t have many ornaments. Mommy was at Ralphs, and what do you know? Right there in the middle of the freezer aisle they had stuffed Santa ornaments for $1.99 so I bought one. And someday you will want this stuffed santa front and center on your tree.”

Seeing as I wanted a real tree with lights and a few ornaments, I broached this to Laef. He was on board until he started looking online at trees. Then he started adding in the stand. And the lights, and my midnight sneak runs to Target to build our ornament collection, and then he started wishing we’d be visiting family this Christmas. I politely explained to him that I have spent zero dollars on Vodka, wine, sushi dinners, and that this pregnancy is actually saving us quite a bit of money (for the time being anyway) and that next year we won’t have to invest in all the accessories.

He then tells me that he saw trees at Ralphs. I was thinking more of the Christmas tree lot where you wander the lot in warm mittens and find your perfect tree, and then they deliver it to you.  But the trees at Ralphs were decent looking, so it’s settled. We will buy our first-ever tree at Ralphs.

I might have suggested to Laef that we carry the tree from Ralphs back to our house. I might not have realized that 7′ tall Christmas trees weigh quite a bit. Instead, we will lift the tree onto my car in the middle of the parking lot where old men in white Range Rovers giggle from inside their warm car about the two rookies who are standing in the freezing wind tying a Ralphs tree to their car (TRUE STORY).

But, the joke was on them as they don’t seem to know my husband. Laef. Fucking. Morris. Handyman extraordinaire.

Um. Then we got home. And Laef took his MacGyver complex WAY too far. He said the tree was too heavy for us to carry up our stairs because I’m pregnant. But the true story was that he COULD NOT HELP HIMSELF FROM DOING THIS:

Of course our neighbors thought we were insane. No one thought it would work except for MacGyver so let’s not even talk about the amount of gloating that took place once the tree was inside.

Here’s where my fantasy really took a nasty turn. The tree was nailed into a stand. But we needed to remove it from the stand so that we could put it in our tree stand and give it water. Not to mention, it wasn’t exactly straight at the time of purchase and putting it in our own tree stand allowed us to make it straight. Unfortunately, there were five ginormous nails in the tree stand. Which were extremely difficult to remove. There was a lot of F-bombs and hammering. Then there was some major surgery needed to get the trunk to actually fit into the tree stand. Then there was the issue of the tree lights, which were apparently purchased while I was high because I bought two different kinds, which isn’t the end of the world, but when I originally had this vision of a tree, it never included a mishmash of lights.

No matter, there were enough lights to fill the tree, and eventually I realized that our first tree would be a learning experience. And in the end we were both super, super excited about it. Laef even suggested walking to CVS because we didn’t have a topper for it. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that the CVS silver star tree topper won’t be the one that gets brought out for years to come, but it works for 2010.

The only issue now is Sanch. Everyday we will hope to come home and find the tree still standing in all its glory.

UCLA is shut down this week for Spring Break. And, because of furloughs, they actually closed most of the departments in the school. Therefore, I am home drinking lime vodka and soda, sunning my gams and mentoring The Sanch. To be honest, The Sanch is not playing along with my Spring Break bliss. He is normally on a very tight schedule: Up at 6:30 a.m., fed at 6:31 a.m., licking the shower door at 6:43 a.m., perched on the windowsill at 7:10 a.m. to say his good-byes.

Today started with him crying at the bedroom door at 6:30 a.m. I exercised the “let him cry until he falls back asleep method” and he was quiet for a while. Eventually we all fell back asleep, but at 9:20 a.m., The Sanch was starving. I was also scarred by my morning dreams, which included Laef engaging in a private volleyball match and super secret text messages, both of which he told me I couldn’t know about. (When I  told him about my dream, he informed me that there’s a cease and desist order on my reading coverage about Sandra Bullock and Tiger Woods).

Anyway, I woke up relieved to know that my husband is not Jesse James, but that my cat doesn’t appreciate change. I fed The Sanch and he then proceeded to walk around the house meow-ing. Non. Fucking. Stop. It’s like he was messed up by the fact that I was there and couldn’t do his super-secret Tiger Woods shit (lounging on the counter, drinking from the toilet, texting the skank next door). Or, he wasn’t tired enough to nap.

I’m a nerd and so my first order of spring break was spring cleaning. Then I made a fruity drink and sat in the sun. Then I watched a double feature of Swingers and The Proposal.

Basically, I was killing time until March Madness starts up again. I finally revisited my bracket today to figure out where I’m at and if I even have a chance to win. It’s still too hard to tell, but I know this: If West Virginia loses, I am fucked. It would be great if Kentucky lost to Cornell (doubtful) or to West Virgina. Even then, I’m not sure if I’d be in it, but I have WVU in my final so it beating Washington is a must. (Sidenote: Money and pride aside, I would love to see the Huskies win).

So, day 2 of Spring Break will be all about the hoops. I would love to be in Vegas again, but I’d probably lose my ass AGAIN so it’s better to be on my couch high-fiving The Sanch if WVU wins.

At first, the idea seems so logical.

Let’s make cookies for all of our friends and coworkers as gifts. It will be cheaper, more thoughtful and meaningful.

And then reality sets in when you actually count the number of people both Laef and I work with along with the neighbors, the UCLA basketball team and the mail man.

But, I was determined to make three kinds of cookies: Paula Dean’s Chocolate Gooey Butter Cookies, Paula Dean’s Ginger Cookies and Tyler Florence’s My Big, Fat Chocolate Chip Cookies.

In the end, I realized the errors of my ways, and realized that making two different kinds of cookies – or even one – would have been more manageable.

I thought everything was fine until I hit a wall midway through Sunday afternoon, had a mini-meltdown and practically divorced Laef for eating the cookies and not vacuuming.

Seriously. I was a FREAK.

I was so tired from standing in the kitchen, rolling dough into balls and washing 4,343,502 dishes that I was beginning to go insane.

Which is the only explanation for also making Martha Stewart’s slow-cook lasagna in the middle of all the cookie mayhem. (It’s actually a really easy recipe and was to die for when it was done. Super yummy).

After it was all said and done, I was happy I did it and we had 40 bags of cookies that looked like this:

I have sent Laef to work with 20 bags, and am curious to know how many bags he eats and how many he gives away. The over under is at 10 each.

After the cookie debacle was finally done, we walked downtown to watch the annual Manhattan Beach Christmas firework show. For some reason, we have never been for this, and despite the fact that my back was killing me and I was at stage four of five on the psycho meter, we went.

We stopped by our neighbors’ house on 18th street to give them cookies and a Christmas card. These are the people who came out of their houses at our wedding to throw rice at us and give us champagne.

Neither was home. The current residents informed us that they are only there during the summer.

I hate them. They totally should have had Laef and I watch their houses during the winter. We would have gladly made sure nothing went wrong.

Anyway, all of the shops downtown are open. Some have hot cocoa, some have champagne and most offer some sort of treats. There are thousands of people camped out on the closed streets.

Despite the fact that Manhattan Beach celebrates Christmas with fireworks, it was the first time this month that I actually felt like it was the holiday season.

We walked home right after and I promptly went to sleep at 8:20 p.m.

Moral of the story: It sounds logical to make homemade gifts, but sometimes a box of chocolates is just fine.

I don’t know if it’s the fact that it’s 80 degrees in November in LA or that I’m working today, but it certainly hasn’t felt like Thanksgiving at all.

Because Laef leaves today with the basketball team and will be gone through Sunday, I am heading to San Diego to spend the holiday with friends.

Being with friends for holidays is a super fun party, but it totally lacks the “did my mom really just drink Two Buck Chuck from a plastic cup?” or the “Is my 3-year old niece really pooping on the toilet with a newspaper?” or the “Is my sister really licking the turkey bone?” or “Is Allison seriously puking on Thanksgiving Day from being hung over?”

Nothing beats family during the holidays.

Even if Laef wasn’t going to be gone, I’m pretty certain we wouldn’t be doing our own Thanksgiving dinner. Cooking a turkey for two doesn’t make any sense, so we would have gone somewhere else and watched other people cook and other people’s families interact.

But, some day, we’re going to have our own stories. Someday, I will be cooking a turkey, Laef will be playing WoW in his boxers and our babies will be passed around among aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents. Someday, The Sanch will wonder what the fuck happened to the good ol’ days when he ran this town and there were no mini-humans to speak of.

Can’t wait.

By the way, come back HERE on Monday to read about a SUPER exciting holiday giveaway! I can’t believe I am giving away a present and I have to keep it secret for six days. This is torture for me, but I think you will like it!

Happy Thanksgiving!

XXOO

We are midway through what has been the best three-day Valentine’s weekend ever.

No, we didn’t exchange gifts of diamonds or fancy trips, but we were in an unfamiliar place nonetheless. A place of total and utter relaxation for three days. Lately, it seems one day of no responsibilities is hard to come by, so the past three days have been nothing short of heavenly.

On Friday, we were supposed to go to the movies. We never made it. Instead, we rented three movies at Blockbuster, bought insane amounts of candy and began our Valentine fort sesh.

The Sanch was front and center and desperately wanted a part of it all – the candy, the popcorn and the scary movies.

I will get a flavored Lemon Head before I die.

I will have popcorn before I die.

After one million times of being yelled at and several squirts from the water bottle, he finally bought into laying the fuck down and chilling out.

Fine. I will watch Friday the 13th Part VII.

On Saturday morning, I was wide awake at 8 a.m. I wish I could feel that awake during the week. Since we didn’t make it to the movies on Friday, the plan was to get there sometime Saturday.

My favorite thing to do when I have free time is cook. So, I spent most of Saturday in the kitchen making yummy recipes from the fabulous Williams-Sonoma bride and groom cookbook that Annett and Ben gave us. We had French Onion soup, oven-baked fried chicken, mashed potatoes and grilled artichokes for dinner. It was comfort food at its best, complete with lots of butter, lots of cream and a bottle of Veuve champagne for a V-Day toast (this was a Christmas gift to Laef from one of the UCLA doctors. If you think I would spend more than $4 on a bottle of Cook’s you are crazy).

Unfortunately for Laef, Valentine’s Day ended at about 8 p.m. for me. After cooking all day (and drinking wine/champagne while doing it), I was more than happy to let him play video games and rest my eyes for 12 hours.

I’m sure this sounds un-romantic to people, but I am happiest when doing hobbies I like while Laef is doing hobbies he likes. But with us both under the same roof. Oh, and I like when Sanch is there too, running around trying to get rid of his dingleberry’s that plague him day in and day out. Yes, everyone, Valentine’s Day is all about dingleberry’s and WoW. Total bliss.

Anyway, all of the cooking took its toll on our kitchen plumbing system and so things got even more romantic when we had water all over the floor on Sunday. Our landlord sent over her 85-year-old father to fix it. There’s nothing like an old man in knee pads in your kitchen to spice things up!

We decided to drag ourselves off the fort and out for a walk to burn a few calories. We had been doing nothing but eating and being horizontal for 48 hours so in an effort to prevent bed sores, we headed out for a four-mile walk. The exercise also motivated us to finally see the movie. Except when we got home (and finally got warm), we had an hour to kill before the movie started. Which essentially led to not getting back up again.

So, here it is Monday. Day three of horizontal living. We are really going to try and see this movie today. But the bed is still in the living room and looking damn good.

Apparently, people do buy Valentine’s Day balloons. I revisited Ralph’s yesterday and was actually curious to see if its supply of balloons had dwindled. Turns out the guy in front of me was buying not one, but two GIANT Valentine’s Day balloons. Yes, I am the crazy who took a picture with my phone. Don’t worry, I was very nonchalant about it.

So I was wrong. There are people out there who love the spirit of Valentine’s Day. Like my friend Sarah’s husband, Dave. I got a call from Sarah yesterday while I was at work. She was giddy beyond belief because Dave had woken her up at 5 a.m., blindfolded her and taken her to the airport. They had a layover in San Francisco, where he had reserved a spot for them in some special lounge that was equipped with all-you-can-drink mimosas and bloody mary’s.

She called after a few drinks and after realizing that they were about to board a plane for New York for six days. For Valentine’s Day. What. The. Fuck? Well done, Dave. Well done.

As for our plans. First of all, I have Monday off. Which I am pretty sure makes me almost as excited as Sarah is right now. We are seeing Friday the 13th tonight. Then we are getting super crazy and wild and moving our mattress into the living room for three days. It’s basically like reverting to five year old behavior and building a fort. Then we can eat breakfast in bed while watching Little People Big World marathons.

Lamb, if you make one comment, I will PYITF.

TGIF.