Toasty Tuesday

A Tuesday that feels like a Monday. It just doesn't pack quite the same delightful punch as a Monday that feels like a Sunday.

But we fared quite well. The day began with an instant desire to paint a RadioDogMan, and I have to say, I really wanted to see what this would look like.

It looks like this. Apparently those are headphones on RadioDogMan's head and they transmit special messages. Messages about bad guys and panda bears.


Unfortunately I had to cut the photo shoot short. Just after this shot was taken, Stella toppled out of her chair, dumping two cups of red and blue paint all over her person and the kitchen floor. She was terribly upset, crying, The mess. The mess. Very Marlon Brando in Apocalypse Now. The horror. The horror.

But the mess was cleaned and we moved along to our next project of the day: a visit to the OB. It's hard to believe that we are actually to the point of visiting my dear OB every two weeks. Between preschool and grandparents, I've managed to attend these appointments solo, but today, I took the whole crew with me.

The two were in absolute awe of the other pregnant bellies in the office, and that they too had been in my belly at that office. And then our fifteen minute wait turned into half an hour, then forty-five minutes later, out of snacks and bored with magazines, the two cherubs had nothing left to do but wrestle each other on the waiting room couch, while I essentially sat on them trying to keep the noise level and possibility of injury to a minimum.

After an hour and five minutes in the waiting room we were finally called back to Exam Room number 3. The change of venue was just what the kiddies needed. My peeing in a cup spurred on a series of questions from Heath to the nurse, while she checked my blood pressure and kindly kept up with his barrage of inquiries. Why do you call it urine? Some people call it pee-pee? Why do put that stick in there? There's sugar in it? You drink that? Why do you have those gloves on?

Illustrations of babies in bellies with umbilical cords solved the mystery of just how one gets a belly button, purple gloves were slapped on for knee boo-boo inspection, maxi-pads were stuck to foreheads, jelly was squeezed onto my belly, and the swift whoosh of baby brother or sister's heartbeat stopped everyone in their tracks.

We got an All is Well bill of health, and five minutes later, we were on our way. And when it's a true scorcher of a day, there's only one other place to be besides the OB's office.

The pool. Thank goodness for the pool.