Trotted off to a nearby mountain town yesterday to re-enact the infamous induction and birth of exterior baby, hoping for a similarly dramatic (but perhaps less lengthy) outcome for interior bebe.
What an idiot I was.
Proof of idiocy abounded in the idiot-flavored pudding, which included: letting a toddler fall asleep in the car for a 20 minute rejuvenating ‘catnap’ en route to our apparently detestable destination, hauling a laptop and a Dora dvd into the nail salon and somehow thinking it would magically transfix him for 30 + minutes while mommy got pampered, not bringing a drop of alcohol/tylenol/orajel/vicodin/etc. to ease his teething pain.
20 painful/humiliating minutes later, my darling friend Jenny had a moment of lucidity and volunteered to stroll the little master around in his carriage whilst I finished up in peace.
Don’t worry, she still got her pedi too.
Moral of the story: little boys hate salons as much as – or more than – big boys. And the number one most disturbing thing you can say to your far-from-fluent in English aesthetician is “oh yes, we plan on having more than two children.”
We didn’t connect on much, conversationally, but she somehow read that one loud and clear. And proceeded to pat my belly many, many times for the remainder of out appointment, feverishly uttering ‘you have girl…girl…please have girl…be done!’
Still here, still pregnant, but my toes look amazing.