Well, there it is. The last day of November and the deed has been done. When I signed on, I had no idea how much work and perseverance it would take to stay on this wagon. I'm not sure it was worth it, but hey, I got a custom crib set out of it, right? That pretty much rocks.
I realize it's in terribly bad taste because he's dead and it certainly wasn't from natural causes, but doesn't he look so much cooler, nonchalant and tanly, chicly bald in the after part (which is weirdly first) of this photo? I realize he's deathly ill and all, but come on, who would you rather hang out with? Dorky, doubtful seventies guy, or Right Said Fred over there? You don't have to say it, I know I'm an ass.
Walking through dried, dead leaves in the forest makes me crave Rice Krispies, even though I find them unsatisfyingly light as a breakfast. Just so you know.
My first doctor's appointment is on Monday, and I'm really looking forward to it. I've decided to take the Cap'n and Poopies along for the journey in the hopes that we will hear a heartbeat or even see the critter, though since they'll also likely be taking a look under the hood I'm not sure how that will work out. I definitely don't want Poopies to see his Mama all propped up in stirrups while a strange person does things under there (that one'd go straight to the repressed unconscious, I think), but then again I'm not sure if the staff will have the patience to be fetching family members at what I deem as the appropriate moment. Just one of those stupid things I'll hash and rehash thousands of times between then and now only to find that it was no big deal. Like taking out the trash or putting away the leftovers. These things run on repeat in my head. I wish I knew why. Maybe I saw my Mom receive a pelvic exam when I was two or something.