First time I listened to Simon & Garfunkel’s The Zoo all the way through.
Funny lyrics. Reminded me of Barenaked Ladies. I wasn’t gonna write anything for today, yesterday kinda wore me out, but that line inspired me to try.
With the tragedy that happened to Mike Tyson’s 4-year-old yesterday running in the background, making me weepy and sad and crushing me with a remembrance of similar stories over the years of parents who just want three minutes of that horrible day as a do-over, I feel heavy. I let my own day, April 7, pass without notice this year. I had an eight-day-old baby capturing my attention, and maybe I was glad I was too busy to relive it for the millionth time.
Deep sigh when I got Jon Alex past 11 weeks old without major injury. He turned three months, and I figured I’d at that point have him forever. Ehren is eight weeks. Four weeks to go. Post-traumatic stress disorder is a lifelong bitch.
Jordan’s botox injections are tomorrow. I’m nervous, but cannot let her know. I’m taking the rest of her bionic apparatus with us for a final fitting since I can’t get any of it on right. I’ve wasted a week.
Did I ever tell you that I hyphenated the baby’s last name? My maiden name and Q’s last name. It’s unwieldly as hell, but I think men with hyphenated last names are sexy.
Today is the perfect day for a car nap.
