So not much happens in my world, except for my nonstop, super-stressful job of avoiding wedding planning at all costs. For instance, today my mom facebook chatted me. She had sent me an e-mail earlier this week about some wedding stuff, and of course I didn't respond. I e-mailed her about that stuff LAST week, what does she expect?! Anyways, she asked me what I thought of her e-mail. This seemed a pretty vague question to me, so I told her, "I don't know, A-minus." And THAT, my friend, is how you avoid wedding planning.
But I do also do other things. Really. I totally just finished both seasons of Better Off Ted. In like...two weeks. Okay, it was one week. Don't judge me.
Also, update on my face. Don't worry, I can still make my livin's off of it. I went back to the emergency room on the specified date, only to have a nurse look at me and say, "Well, I don't know if we should take them out yet. We better have a doctor look at it." Thanks, nurse-babe, for your expertise. So I sat in the waiting room for an hour and a half, for a doctor that may or may not have wanted to take the stitches out. Thus, in order to not waste my Saturday in a waiting room full of vomiting, limping people that looked like they were shooting germs out of their eyeballs, I left. A couple days later, I took the stitches out myself. And you know what? It took like five minutes. I still have a small bump of scar tissue that looks kinda gross. And it hurts when it gets bumped by Fiance because he's a dude and not very aware sometimes when he gives hugs. However, the true damage appears to be internal, for I now have a debilitating fear of ice.
I walk outside for any reason, and I'm staring at the ground looking for ice. Now keep in mind, it's still winter, so there's lots of it around. And when I SEE ice, my insides seize up, and I automatically go into old-person mode, where I walk with my arms out to keep my balance and I take small, scooting baby steps. Yeah. It looks ridiculous, but at least I'm safe. BUT as I'm walking, and staring at the ice, which looks back up at me menacingly with its faceless, cold look of death, my mind plays back a slow motion reel of my face hitting pavement, the taste of the sidewalk and blood, and the pain in my chin. At which point I have to take deep breaths and go back inside. I may just need to invent an all-over body mattress cushiony thing that would prevent one from hitting the sidewalk with any kind of hurtful impact. Pair it up with a football helmet, and you're ready for a painless night on the town! I may get my friend Whitney to invent and patent this idea for me. She's good at things like that.
This is, apparently, the life of a 22-year-old procrastinator who's taking time off school and only works part time. My accomplishments are few to none. BUT, I know a 9-month-old who accomplished much this week, so I'd rather talk about her.
My part-time but very fulfilling job is that of a nanny to a little baby named Ari. She's pretty much awesome. That's right. I totally skipped over those typical baby adjectives like "cute" and "adorable" and went straight to awesome, because she is.
Today, my last workday of the week, she did something awesome.
Her dad Charlie comes home from lunch every day, and when he does, he of course takes time to say hi to Ari and snuggle her, oftentimes against her will. Ari loves her dad but she doesn't like him kissing her with his prickly beard, and I think she also just doesn't like having her play interrupted. Today Charlie came in and bent down to have her "walk" to him. Ari walks by clamping onto any grown-up's fingers and leading them around the house. She has not, to this point, walked on her own, but she CAN stand for a few wobbly seconds. Anyway, I was holding onto her fingers, Dad was a couple steps away, and she started to walk. I slipped my fingers out of her hands, and she took two steps ALL BY HERSELF and fell into her dad's arms. Charlie and I looked at each other, completely agape. We must've both gasped, because Ari looked truly alarmed. We called her mom Rhonda into the room and tried to get Ari to demonstrate her newfound skillz. However, probably because of our gasping combined with our persistence and shoving combined with Ari's annoyance at interrupted playtime, Ari pulled the jell-o legs move on us and just sat down to crawl instead. It's much safer nearer the ground, after all.
So Ari, this week, learned to walk. I learned how to continue avoiding wedding planning, and also how much time can be wasted in watching addictive shows. Sorry, Mom. I'll do better next week, I promise.
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