So, I'm fine. Um. I'm alive anyway. I've had a lot going on but most of it I can't talk about. Some of it because I don't want to get kicked out of this religious education class that I've been taking but let's just leave it at you should probably not ever ask someone talking about purgatory and sin why it's ok to take birth control to keep yourself from ripping your husband's balls off and carrying them around in your purse once a month but if you take it to keep from getting pregnant you're going to hell.
You should also just eat the damn cookie when they tell you to and not make references to any 'kool-aid'.
Anyway, there are other things we can talk about.
Josie has decided that walking is LAME. She took a few steps and she will still take a few steps if we make her but she sighs and rolls her eyes like she's doing us this big favor and she can't believe how LAME we are for thinking this is cool when it's so much more awesome to make her sister and brother get everything for her- and they do- but whatever, she'll amuse us if we bribe her with a cookie and she'll clap when we do but she will NOT ENJOY THE WALKING FOR THE WALKING IS LAME. She doesn't talk either. Mama, Dada, *SHRIEK* but not talk. And I am not at all worried. Nope. Not even a little tiny bit.
I was tucking David into bed one night- he was watching Madagascar. His favorite part of the movie came on. The part where they all start singing "I like to move it move it". I was dancing and making him laugh. I went to whip around and stand up and my forehead decided that it wanted to meet David's bedpost and I heard this loud *CRACK* and realized that it was my skull. When I could see clearly and hear again, I turned to look at David who was sitting up, eyes wide and mouth open.
"Are you ok?"
"Um, yeah. That hurt."
"Well then you shouldn't hit yourself like that Mommy."
Gee, thanks buddy. Hadn't thought of that.