This morning I woke up and decided to throw in the towel, carpe the diem, and call it a day before it began. I got a book in the mail a few days ago, The Fault In Our Stars by John Green, and wanted to read it. Everyone had said it’s such a great book and you’ll read it in a day and all that jazz, so I put life on pause–the freelance work, the book proposals, the two page to-do list–and read.
It is a luxury I can enjoy right now, taking a day just to read. I know it’s annoying. To compensate: A few weeks ago at the grocery store someone asked me when I was “due,” and despite being appropriately horrified, I told them April because it was the less awkward option. “You look amazing for being so far along!” they replied, surprised. Strangely, I felt proud. I do look great for being so far along!
I live in a strange reality.
Anyways, I read the book all day long in between breaks to feed/console/diaper a loud midget. It was wonderful.
In short, Green’s novel is beautiful and made me weepy and feel all the feelings. I finished soon after six when I lept from my seat, tears in my eyes, craving the one thing that makes all the feelings feel better (and causes questions in the grocery store), chocolate!
My friend Bethany had dropped off a chocolate peanut butter egg a few hours earlier because she’s amazing, and I’d saved it for the evening when I knew it would taste the best (time makes the heart grow fonder). Imagine my surprise when it was gone, shamelessly consumed by none other than James Austin Baer; husband, father, and now–convicted felon.
Me: Did you eat that peanut butter egg?
Austin: I wasn’t supposed to?
Me: Hah! No really, where is it.
Austin: No I really ate it.
Me: {blank stare}
Austin: I mean, I just ate it.
Me: I can’t even believe you right now.
Austin: Do you want to watch TV later?
Me: YOU ARE DEAD TO ME.
Finally he just left because I was “being dramatic” and he “needed to study.” I don’t know. Then I remembered it’s the first day of spring which means FREE WATER ICE AT RITA’S!
So then I stuffed Waylon in the car with promises of “yummy” only to discover 75 freezing cold adults and their impatient children standing in line, looking vaguely miserable. I consider my options and take the high road: McDonalds Drive-Thru!
One McFlurry later and Waylon is about done with this road-trip despite my best efforts to remind him that we are having a good time, damnit.
“Look at us having a Mommy-Waylon date!” I chirp.
He is not impressed and asks about the whereabouts of “daddy.”
I get home in time for a bath before bedtime and a few short stories. Waylon yawns lazily in my lap but does not fall asleep quickly.
Finally Austin emerges from his office, completely forgotten about the egg, and asks to practice looking at my “fundus.” I say no but let him anyways because I’m a good wife. I pray it’s somewhere above my neck (it is).
It’s a Wednesday in March.
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