Time to be AWESOME instead

The boys left for South Carolina for the month this morning...very early this morning.  Very early.  I acknowledge the necessity, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.  Taking a cue from humans everywhere, my method of dealing with it is to be angry, because anger is much easier to deal with than sadness (unless you're on the receiving end). 

It occurred to me, very early this morning, that the next time I would see the boys, I would no longer be pregnant, as they'll get home about a week after I'm due.

That's when I realized I'm not really angry, I'm sad.  Sad with a chunk of fear thrown in, because return tickets have not been purchased...although that shouldn't bother me; not once in the six years that I've been in the picture has she kept the boys for the full term of visitation.  She generally gets annoyed--or something--and sends them home a week or so early.  So, I shouldn't be scared of them not coming home, because she seems to prefer being a favorite aunt with bragging rights, as opposed to the more labor-intensive full-time mom.  Also, I shouldn't be sad, because there is a light at the end of the tunnel, wherein we get the boys back AND I cease to be pregnant (can I get a hallelujah?) all in the same week.

Hence, I've decided to take Barney's advice and stop being sad, and be AWESOME instead.

But before I do, let me expound on the Joys Of Pregnancy yet again.   One of the web comics Jon reads, Real Life Comics, managed to capture the REST of what's going on around Hoth this week:

I just realized it's too small to read.  Drat.  Click the link above.  Totally worth it.

I think it hit me as especially funny this week because Jon's been all whiney about his ear infection.  Wah, wah, burst eardrum, wah wah.  That's sarcasm, BTW...I really don't begrudge Jon his right to be unhappy/grumpy about the pain...mostly because I'm currently NOT in labor. But I have to admit, I may have had some eerily similar internal dialog at some point during bursting process.  Sometimes I feel bad for the husbands/partners of pregnant women.  There's just no way for them to win an "I'm miserable" show down for at least nine months without being a complete and insensitive jerk.  Unfortunately for Jon, then the fetus will usually stomp on my bladder or some other disgusting and/or painful thing will happen, and I'm out for blood again.

And...the sequel to "camping for grown ups" is apparently "camping for kids," wherein the boys "camp" in the backyard, learning at home the cardinal lesson of camping that I guess they didn't learn in the wilderness; namely, be sure to keep the tent door zipped to keep wasps and other insect life OUT:

Can you smell the fear?  mwah ha ha ha ha!  We eventually took pity and removed the offending wasps.  And by "we," I mean, "Jon," because NO WAY was I going anywhere near them...

In other family news, we signed Elijah up for junior tackle football.

Taking him to be fitted for his gear was one of the last things we did before sending them off to South Carolina.  It was funny to watch him go from being headstrong and cocky to appropriately nervous about the prospect of being tackled by some hulking kid.  Ladies and gentlemen, I await the spectacle.  And not just that first week of conditioning, wherein he realizes that we didn't sign him up an XBox football/Madden tournament, but actual football.  MWAH HA HA HA HA!

35 days and counting...