My baby is now officially a preschooler. One of us cried for less than a minute. The other one cried a lot longer. I’ll let you figure out which one was the bigger baby.

When I agreed that Cleatus should get a vasectomy I knew that we wouldn’t be having anymore children. I knew that he was 100% sure that he was done. And I also knew that it would be unfair of me to ask for more children when I had my boy and my girl. I knew that he would never change his mind. And I knew that I didn’t want another child RIGHT THEN, but I also knew that I would still be ecstatic if I happened to get pregnant.

I don’t regret our decision to get a vasectomy, but some days, like today, if I think about it to much I start to panic and worry that we’ve made a mistake. My baby is IN SCHOOL. She is no longer a baby…she is a PRE-SCHOOLER.

One of these days she is going to lose those fat little cheeks and those chunky thighs and that adoring love of her green blanky and blue pillow. One day she will stop asking me "Love Cindy-Lu?" and she’ll stop saying "pretty pretty pretty PLEASE!" when she asks for candy. One of these days she is going stop guarding the door when it is time for her daddy to go to work. She’ll stop crying because he is driving off in "Cindy-Lu’s van" and she won’t demand one more hug, HUG DADDY!, every time he puts his shoes on. One of these days she is going to grow up.

And today I think I’ll cry about that.

This week Cleatus is off of work for the entire week. He hasn’t had a full week off in over a year, so we are enjoying every minute. Except…we’re so busy all week. We have had things going on every damn day and it continues on that way until he goes back to work Sunday evening.

Yesterday was Cindy-Lu’s pre-school open house. Yes. Pre-school. My baby is going to school. She loved it and can’t wait to go back. Tomorrow is her first REAL day of school, complete with pictures and everything. She will be wearing the most preshus outfit evah. And its not even a dress. Its only preshus because of the shoes…the boots. She’s a little cowgirl.

Today Eeyore went to the oral surgeon for a consult about a tooth. He has a baby tooth that is hanging on for dear life and his adult tooth got all impatient and went and grew in right in front of the baby tooth. The surgeon was explaining the procedure to us (nitrous! for my baby! and then a shot! in the mouth!) and said that possibly the tooth will just fall out on its own during the month wait for the actual extraction appointment. Mm. Yes, maybe. Except, well, its been like that for a YEAR. I’m just a big procastinator and didn’t want to make him go through the whole pulling of the tooth if it’d just come out on its own.

After they told me how much it would cost (only seventy five bucks after insurance! Sweet!), I told Eeyore that I could either pay the dentist the seventy five dollars or I would pay Eeyore half that to wiggle it out on his own. Well, when I told my mama the deal, she offered up twenty bucks to the cause and that got me thinking. I then called Cleatus’s mama and asked her if she’d pony up as well. Eeyore is up to seventy dollars himself if he can pull the tooth on his own. And we haven’t even hit up the great-grandparents yet.

Moving on from the tooth to exciting news later in the week…

Sometime I have to go shopping for something to wear to my brother-in-law’s wedding. I don’t wanna. I have gained forty (yes! forty!) pounds since this time last year when I quit my job. I did just start back on my weight loss pill that I had taken with success before, but um, the wedding is only a week away so I think I’ll still be fat then. However, I can tell that its working. One of the side effects that I positively HATE (actually the only side effect) is that it causes me to sweat. I don’t know why it does this. I have taken it before without that problem, but the last time I took it and this time I SWEAT like a PIG. We were standing in the very air conditioned pre-school class yesterday and I could feel trickles of sweat dripping out from my armpits and rolling down my sides. I wasn’t even HOT! I was just sweating. It was horribly disgusting. Thats me! New and improved! Now with sweat! But, I figure you hafta sweat to lose weight so maybe thats a sign that its working? Whatever. I’ll take a few months of sweaty hell to lose those forty fifty sixty pounds.

I got an email today from Sarah about the guest posting gig a few weeks back. She offered to guest post and I sent her the invite but she never recieved it. I assumed that she decided my blog was unworthy of her mad writing skillz got busy and forgot to write a guest post and she assumed, well, I don’t know what she assumed. Probably that I’m a bitch that hates her and never even sent her the invite. So, I just wanted to apologize to you guys for missing out on what was sure to have been a bad ass guest post. Damn it.

A few weeks ago we went to the Morton Pumpkin Festival. Morton is the "pumpkin capital of the world." It is home to Libby’s, the pumpkin pie people. But, this isn’t about Morton. This is about my mama and daddy.

They accompanied me and the kids to the Pumpkin Festival to watch the kids ride some carnival rides. We went around dinner time and were all hungry, but the lines, OH MY WORD, the lines were long at the food tent. We decided to eat dinner after the carnival, but there were so many people carrying around yummy pumpkin goodies. They serve pumpkin ice cream, pumpkin donuts, pumpkin pie, and pumpkin cookies at one of the food tents and I REALLY wanted to try a pumpkin donut. I have lived near Morton all my life and have gone to the festival damn near every year and yet, I have never had anything but pumpkin pie. The lines were long, though, and we decided against waiting for the pumpkin treats.

The next day my dad called me on his way home from work to tell me that he had gone up to the grocery store in Morton and gotten me some pumpkin donuts and could he drop them by?

Isn’t that the sweetest thing you ever heard? 

I love my dad.

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This morning the kids were supposed to go the Church with my mother-in-law, like they do every Sunday, but she called and said she wouldn’t be able to make it. I had big plans to go to the grocery store *gasp* ALONE and I was pretty bummed that I would have to take the kids now.

A few minutes after I got off the phone with my MIL my mama called and invited me out shopping with her and my grandma. I declined and said that I needed to grocery shop and besides, the EVIL LITTLE CHILDREN were with me. She, of course, said the children were welcome to come, because, for some reason, she LIKES them. I said thanks, but no thanks and went about my morning.

An hour passed and my mama called back. She told me that her and my grandma were coming to pick up the kids so that I could go shopping and I could just pick them up when we came over for dinner tonight. She was taking my kids and keeping them all day long. Because she knew I needed a break. She put her shopping plans on hold so that I could get groceries.

I love my mom.

T was back last night.

Eeyore called him on the phone to invite him to church on Sunday. The church is having some kind of bring a friend and eat some ice cream/brainwashing you into being a good little Christian/aw, isn’t baby Jesus so SWEET thing on Sunday. Now, Eeyore isn’t the BEST little phone talker in the world, but I listened and he didn’t do a horrible job. Which is why I was so confused when T was knocking on my door two minute later.

Eeyore invited him in and they were playing in Eeyore’s room. I stuck my head in and asked T if he was coming to church on Sunday.

"Oh. I think church is kinda bad." he said. Funny, but I feel the same way about T. Just "kinda bad."

"Ooookay," I said and listened to Eeyore fill him in on all the FUN! and GAMES! that church was. (Lies. All of it, I’m sure.)

After about fifteen minutes I told T that it was getting late (It was already dark when he came over! And he had to cross the road!) and he needed to head home.

"But where’s my ice cream?" he whined.

Um, what? I’m not feeding you ice cream you little bastard. Go home and ask your mommy.

He thought that when Eeyore called him he was asking him to come over for ice cream, not to come to church on Sunday and eat ice cream. I was really shocked that he misheard, what with his HUMONGOS ears and all.

Again, Eeyore told him about how great church is (they’ve apparently brain washed my first born), but T wasn’t budging. Church is for losers and he wasn’t going. (Not sure why, because he totally is a loser, but whatever.)

So. T went home and now Eeyore is all confused, like what does he mean CHURCH ISN’T FUN? Church is the BEST thing that has EVER happened! I don’t know where Eeyore gets it, but he is certainly a Godly little thing. Its nice to know that at least one person in this little family of mine will be going to heaven.

****

Don’t forget to go read my post at GNMParents to find out how playgroup went!