Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Hard Times

Life has been tough for my little Poodle Pop the past couple of weeks:

1. I went away and left her breast-milk-less for a week, and have been very withholding since I got back. She is pissed and doesn't understand why her private property, to which she has a God-given right to protect with force (if necessary), is being confiscated and used for what? Nothing! My boobs are basically just like the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. If she grows up Libertarian, I have no one but myself to blame.

2. She is growing some monster chompers.

3. She has super runny and stinky poops. I blame the monster chompers for that one.

4. While I was gone, there was a house guest situation which I suspect was the origin of a pandemic so destructive that it resulted in every single person I know nearly dying, as Virginia says (Bryan had to go to Urgent Care, and he never gets sick). Now Odessa not only has some new monster chompers and runny poops, but also the wheezy sniffles.

5. She started school yesterday. I know, I know--she's only 17 months old, so how could she be old enough for school? Well, Bryan is literally... okay, scratch that. Bryan is figuratively never going to graduate from college if he keeps taking care of Odessa instead of working on his school crap. SO, Odessa is going to a little Montessori school down the street from our house. And even though she went to daycare this spring (that was all day, every day), and this is only half a day, three days a week, I kind of cried a little in my kerchief after I dropped her off.

Because, ya'll, she's the littlest kid in her whole class and all the other kids were running and talking in complete sentences and basically spazzing out (I heard the 90's were back), and she just stood there in the middle of the room with this look on her face that bespoke, "Holy Shit." And that girl has admittedly had a tough couple of weeks, and it's incredible that she's still so sweet and trusting, and that she can still laugh at my elephant impersonation after all this weening and teething and pooping and force-feeding, not to mention the abandonment. Oh! The abandonment!

But like my dad says, "Life ain't no ride on no pink duck." And if it were, that would be kind of weird.

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