Shower Me With Cupcakes

I am officially banned (again) from watching SuperNanny or 20/20 (when the story involves any childhood disease, fatality, or kidnapping) before I go to bed. I didn't even watch full episodes. Of either one. I caught thirty seconds of a foul-mouthed, spitting three year old on SuperNanny. Then got sucked into ten minutes of 20/20--childhood schizophrenia. And all night long I had terrible nightmares. At this point I can't even tell you what the dreams involved. All I know is I woke up feeling incredibly unrested and defeated.

At least it was a Friday night when this happened. Mark got up ready to go on a morning outing with the kids, and I got to hang back and do what I do best. Piddle. I went for a run. Did two loads of laundry. Cleaned out my horror of a diaper bag. (I found a dollar-fifty in change, a Matchbox ambulance that has been MIA for a few weeks, a used sample pouch of Boudreaux's Butt Paste, and hundreds of cracker crumbs.) Cleaned out my wallet. Although I don't know if I really cleaned it out as much as I just transferred my essentials into a new wallet, leaving the old wallet full of what I now consider unnecessary crap. I have many old wallets in that state. Mark returned with two hungry children. We were able to have some lunch together before I headed out to a baby shower.

Heath was disappointed that he was not able to go to the baby shower with me. He had been involved in the baby gift purchasing and seemed a little bummed that he wasn't going to be involved in the actual celebration. I explained it's for ladies. He explained that it's for big boys, too. I, then, further explained that they would not have race cars at the shower. The subject of him coming was immediately dropped.

Some favorite games were played at the shower. Everyone taking guesses at the mom-to-be's belly circumference. A baby item word scramble. And one that I had heard about from watching The Dugger's: 18 Kids and Counting (another show I have been banned from watching. Not because it gives me nightmares, but because it makes me think three or four more kids might be a plausible idea for me) involving diapers filled with microwaved chocolate candy bars, so that the contents look like baby poop. Peanuts. Almonds. Rice krispy-thingies. They were all in the Pampers. I got them all wrong. I don't eat candy bars. And if I did, I would never be able to look at one the same after this game.

The mommy and baby (gender to be announced upon arrival) got lots of goodies. Onesies. Diapers. Diaper cream. All the great essentials. And I devoured a Vanilla cupcake that had actual vanilla bean flecks in it. This thing was so good I kind of have tears in my eyes right now just thinking about it. Lots of laughs were had, then I opened my cupcake-hole and talked about Postpartum Depression. Good grief, Debbie Downer.

Netflix came in the mail. More Six Feet Under.