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This was me at around 15:30 today.  I was not happy.  Can you tell?

I used to look like this:

I liked this hair cut.  It made me feel pretty and thin and like I looked LIKE A FUCKING GIRL.

I’ll try and keep the story short.

I got my hair cut like a month and a half ago like it is in the second picture.  I liked it; I liked the chick who cut it.  But, my mom convinced me that I should try the chick who cuts Mom’s hair.  “You’ll LOVE her.”

Oh my Jesus it’s been one of those days!

My OB appointment was uneventful as expected.  My weight hasn’t changed since three weeks ago which prompted my OB to finally measure my fundal height [Why does that sound dirty to me?] and lo and behold I’m measuring just fine - 1 week ahead to be moderately exact.  No growth restriction here.

We were in there for 25 minutes from the time we pulled into a parking space till the time that we backed out of said space.  The majority of the time was spent with blood pressure, weight, urine and fetal heart rate.  I saw my OB for literally five minutes.  It’s not like I want to roast marshmallows or anything but am I the only one who finds five minutes a bit quick?

This is a chigger.

I have not named him/her because I wish it dead.

We went to the river this weekend to celebrate the 4th and had a purty darn good time.

Back to the chiggers.

Do you Northern people have chiggers?  I Twittered my disdain for the little arthropods and some people didn’t know what I was talking about.  Said people must not have ever visited Arkansas.

The itching started Saturday night when Tucker pulled a couple of seed ticks off of me.  I figured I was just itching due to the general ickiness of having been a tick’s dinner but before long I was covered with angry red bumps.  They look like hives but weep.  How’s that for gross?

Man, oh man I feel like shit today.

I woke up wanting to puke and have done so several times. I don’t have a fever, but I seem to lack to ability to keep myself from thinking about food. [Damn, I did it again while I was typing that! And now that I’m typing this! I give up.] Every time I think about any kind of food [damnit!] I want to puke.

Feel sorry for me. Please?

I called Tucker and asked him to come home so that he can watch Cara cause it’s kind of hard to keep an eye on the precocious toddler when my head is buried in the toilet.

If I wasn’t well acquainted with my angel’s [cough] father, I could probably be convinced that he was a goat.

Case in point:

Not only does she insist on climbing on everything, she also eats everything.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m glad that I don’t have a picky eater. She’ll eat anything I put in front of her. [except acorn squash]

But paper?

Dog food??

Wood chips?!

Come on!!!

I don’t mean that she just puts it in her mouth to “taste” it. NO! I mean she eats it. Over the lips, past the gums, watch out stomach – here it comes!

have a funny little story for you. [Alana, quit reading since you said you didn’t want to hear it]

One day last week while I was working on the computer, I heard a ruckus behind me.

When I swiveled my chair around to see what the commotion was about, I saw Sophie on her back; she was rolling on something.

Cara was sitting right next to the rolling dog and thought that the whole spectacle was hilarious.

I stomped over to where they were, cussing the cat the whole time since I assumed that the cat had done something disgusting in that particular spot.

Ugg.

So Caroline’s feeling better and that makes me very pleased. I really don’t think I can express the joy that I’m feeling at the fact that I don’t have to change a dirty diaper every thirty minutes. Isn’t it amazing the things that can make a mom happy? Maybe it’s pathetic. Oh well.

Apparently my hand-washing vigilance and obsessive use of hand sanitizer did not prevent me from getting Cara’s bug. Now she’s feeling better and I’m in the throws of stomach cramps and frequent visits to the potty.

Luckily, I can take an ant-diuretic… and complain a lot.

I got a call from the Base a little while ago concerning Cara’s poop. Wait, did I tell you about that. Hmm…let me think. Yep. I did. Here, here, here, and here.

What I forgot to tell you is that Tucker had to take in a little Cara stool sample and that’s why the Base called.

Cara apparently has Salmonella poisoning. I guess she’s really sick and not just being a wuss, huh?

Might explain the amazing quantity of diapers we’ve been plowing through.

Dear Blue Floral Shirt Lady in line at Starbucks around 2:30 today,

Thank you so much for allowing me to hear your entire phone conversation.   Every time your phone would make that obnoxious “beep-beep” noise, I waited with bated breath for the next tidbit to spew forth.  I am really glad that your phone has taken the speaker phone concept to the next level and works as a walkie-talkie.  How novel!

I particularly enjoyed the story about your vaginal infection and how your “man wouldn’t come near [your] coochie with a ten foot pole”.  The comment about your 15 year old sister being “a hoe and knocked up” was also great listening.