I’ve been advised to steer clear of phrases like “I have nothing to write about,” “today was boring,” or “it was a nothing day.”
Well, that’s all well and good.
But what the living heck can you say when it was a nothing day?
Oh, fine, let's give the old grey matter a workout and see what I can come up with.
Well, today is my middle son’s birthday. Nope, didn't get to see him.
He’s why I chose to skip epidurals for all his siblings.
Cowboy was on the phone with my stepdaughter, and he could never bring himself to cut a conversation short with her.
I kept telling him we had to get going to the hospital, because we lived 38 minutes away, with rush hour traffic making it even worse.
Oh yeah.
Raven’s head popped out into the labor and delivery hallway.
If Cowboy had gabbed any longer, he’d have been delivering that boy at home or right there on the interstate.
Look, some things you just don't entirely forgive.
And having to partially give birth in the hospital hallway is one of those things, especially when it could have been avoided.
And a few weeks later I was back in the hospital for a D&C because he came so fast I retained the placenta and was hemorrhaging.
Yep, some things just aren't totally forgivable.
But I found out I could handle natural childbirth just fine, thank you very much.
I remember Peacock’s birth because I surprised my mom right before she went to work by telling her she was a granny, and Cowboy changed Peacock’s name as soon as he saw him.
I'd like to think Peacock looking a bit like a little pointy‑headed alien wasn't part of the reason why.
I remember Raven because he popped out in the hall.
Heron’s birth was just amazing.
It was peaceful and quiet, and when his head came out, our foreheads actually touched for a moment.
We tease him that he's our only Catholic; he was born at St. Mary's.
Badger is a 9/11 baby, on the first anniversary.
Our friendly exterminator came by today.
I love that guy.
Well, maybe love is too strong a word, but he sure is friendly.
He said he checked before he sprayed so he wouldn't spray my stray cat, and he was careful around the bird feeders so he wouldn't poison the birds.
Not very many exterminators would do that.
Heron went to check on the goats before work.
They made it through the storm.
He also said that his girlfriend and her mom have found a contractor to build their little house, which means Heron should be in Newport by the first of the year.
I'm going to hate that.
I've enjoyed him being here.
Cowboy woke up at 11:30 a.m., took his medication, ate his breakfast, and then slept until 4 p.m.
He ate supper and went outside to mow.
Third shift is aging him fast.
He does nothing but sleep now.
In a way it’s aggravating, but on the other hand the darn man turns 67 this year.
He shouldn’t be on graveyard shift, and he sure shouldn’t be working twelve‑hour shifts.
But what can you do?
And with that I'm all jabbered out.
I’m going to update the blog’s color scheme.
I’m a little tired of beige, and after that, I’ll head to bed.
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