February 14, 2000

So I’m done parenting.  Not just done, but done-done.  Tenderheart has been snotty to me one too many times today and I’m just over it.  Good luck with your life, but I’m out.

And obviously I’m not out, but I’ve never wanted to be out more than I do right now.  And she’s tweeting about how crappy her day is and I get yelled at when I ask her what’s going on.  Washing my hands of you.  But Happy Valentine’s Day!!

Their dad texted me today to get Sun and Moon’s addresses so he could send them something.  You might remember that Moonshine hasn’t spoken to him since he texted her after she went to school and she said, New phone, who dis?  Actually it was worse, it was, Sorry, wrong number.  And he’s never even mentioned it to me.  When I texted her to ask her for her address she said, If you give him my address I’ll never speak to you again.  So I texted him and said, You can just drop it off here.  Mmmmmm, I hope it’s candy and/or money.  How much is your poor parenting worth to you?

I was thinking back today on Valentine’s Day 2000.  I was 100 months pregnant with the snotty teen upstairs and just know that I was not an attractive pregnant person.  Some people just carry in their little belly and glow, but I was gigantic.  I carried it everywhere, especially with Tenderheart.  I think I was pretty cute when I was pregnant with Sunshine and I remember actually getting a medium maternity shirt for the beginning, so that was something, but with Tenderheart, it wasn’t pretty.

I had talked the swooper into taking us all out to dinner after I got off work and we picked up Sun and Moon and went to Outback Steakhouse.  Put some shrimp on the barbie and bring over that bloomin’ onion, mate.  YUM!  I was so excited because I was looking cute in my one matching maternity outfit that actually fit and the girls were dressed for their Valentine’s Day party and were so cute and we were a cute little (except me) family going out for a VD dinner.  What could go wrong?

Well, as you can imagine as with the rest of my life, it took about 15 minutes for Moonshine to vomit on me.  And not just vomit on me, but projectile vomit all over my nice outfit.  I took her to the bathroom and got her cleaned up and me as much as possible, but she’d thrown up under the booth and it smelled.  I tried to power through because I didn’t get a lot of nights out when she did it again.  The swooper asked for our food to go and we went and waited by the door.  We told them there was vomit under the table, and I hope they cleaned it up because you could feel the excitement in the line out the door that a group was already leaving.   I walked out covered in vomit, but I hope the next group had a really nice dinner.


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