Speaking of the wedding, apparently dancing with glo-sticks is a real thing and not just on TLC on all those wedding shows. Also, since Husband's friend served with him in Afghanistan, there was a lot of reminiscing and some talk of the explosion. Husband says he doesn't have PTSD, but I must because I had to get up and leave in order not to start sobbing right there at the table. I haven't felt like that in a long, long time. I like these friends a lot, so somehow I have to figure out how to hang out with them and not burst out into tears at the first mention of explosions and dust and guns.
But back to Child 1, she. is. leaving. me! For this:
I know. I don't blame her either. If you remember, I was routing for Hawaii all along. But now that it's actually happening, I'm extremely sad. Preparing for this day for 18 years doesn't help any, in case you were wondering. It still feels like someone is peeling my skin off bit by bit. I don't like it. I do realize that my job as a mother is to ensure that the children grow up and launch successfully into the world, but now that point in time has arrived, I can't help but wish it had taken a little longer. Someone at work asked me if I could have any superpower in the world, what would it be and I didn't hesitate a second before replying "stopping time."
There was a movie on TV a long time ago called "The Girl, the Gold Watch, and Everything." I'm sure it was an awful movie, but since I saw it as a kid, I thought it was awesome. It had that girl from "Mork & Mindy" in it.
Anyway, this watch could actually stop time for everyone but you. So you could just halt time and do what you wanted, and while in the movie they used it to make money, I would use it just to look at the children for as long as I wanted without them saying to stop staring at them and what is wrong with me and is there something the matter with their hair?
There is nothing wrong with their hair. The only thing wrong is that they are growing up and I'm not a fan of that.
So you know what else is not better than a brownie? Bees. In your ceiling. 50,000 of them.
Now, I am allergic to bees. They are a big enough problem for me that my allergist prescribed an epi-pen that I am supposed to carry around in case I get stung. So I think I would, no, I know I would have noticed if there were 50,000 of them living in the ceiling of my apartment. But apparently this woman in Queens did not. Not the constant humming or the smell of honey which must have been strong because beekeepers removed 17 huge honeycombs. So here's to you, Bee Queen, for not letting a few bees bother you. If you had been Child 2, you would have screamed at the top of your lungs every time you saw one and that nice farm in upstate NY would not have 50,000 new residents. Really. The bees were sent to a big farm with a lovely meadow where they can play all day. At least that is what they told the lady in Queens.