I love wine.
And by 'wine' I mean one tiny step away from strawberry kool-aid.
I like a good Riesling--screw top or box only, thank you.
And so the hubbs got me a bottle of Riesling and himself a nice, dry red.
We settled on opposite couches in our family room and sipped while we watched TV.
Yes, we are an old married couple.
And, as history proves, we can't even sit on the same couch when drinking anymore or 9 months later we magically have a baby.
We were hooting it up, the wine going down so smoothly, when the news came across about bin Laden.
Whom so many newscasters kept calling Obama.
I'm certain this blog post will be flagged now.
We were feeling pretty good. Pumping our patriotic fists in the air.
Posting stupid Facebook status updates.
Yes, I was one of them that night. I became the very subject of one of my own blog rants.
And then we hit the hay and slept a nice, deep, wine-induced sleep.
Fast forward to today's Jenny weigh-in where I stepped on the scale and heard that I've lost a half a pound.
Is that even possible? What the heck is a 'half a pound'??
How is that even measured?
And BTW...it's not accurate. According to my scale, I've lost 2 lbs this week.
But I'm pretty sure the culprit was the wine.
That friggin wine that felt so good going down and elicited so many giggles.
It apparently took up semi-permanent residence and invited all the other water in my body to follow suit.
So now I have to live with the disappointment of logging in a 'half pound' weight loss.
But what a life lesson.
So many bad things come of wine for me.
Silly status updates...bad weigh-ins.
I definitely can't refer to the kids as 'bad.'
So there you have it ladies and gents (do guys even read this??)
When you're on a diet, stay away from the sauce.
It most definitely doe NOT agree with the scale.
In other news...today was a winner.
It was rainig cats and dogs.
I struggled to get my Jenny food in the van along with getting M & E in and buckled.
H was in the stroller waiting her turn.
She had no choice-she's only 3 months old.
I was busy bickering with E that it was RAINING and I didn't want to WAIT for her to buckle herself when I turned back to H and noticed she was rolling away from me.
In the parking lot.
Down a small hill.
Luckily (unluckily?) she ran into a light pole and that kept her from going any further.
She was unhurt, but a little miffed, I think that it was such a jarring stop.
Finally, I got her in the car. All 872 buckles fastened and we were on our way.
We got home and I tried to be super woman and haul all my bags, the diaper bag, my purse, the baby in her car seat and M (the almost 2 year old) up the fron steps and in the house.
I hate to make multiple trips.
Especially in the rain.
Instead, as we were climbing the cement front steps, I must have bonked E in the head with the diaper bag (which probably felt roughly like a wrecking ball to her mellon) thus causing her to lose her balance and fall/roll in
s l o w m o t i o n
down the steps.
Somehow she managed to fall in between the potted plants, on top of the watering can, and yet knock nothing down.
Maybe Liam's angel was there too. ;-)
Her final position was face down, head-first, sprawled eagled.
I had to figure out the best way to put everything down without dropping the baby or knocking M off the steps as well.
Then, once I realized she was okay, I had to hold back my giggles so the neighbors wouldn't think I was cruel.
But you all know my sense of humor.
So, here I sit now, laughing out loud at the memory. E even laughed with me.
She said, "That was a-larious!"
Girl after my own heart.
Those neighbors I was so afraid of making a bad impression on...
one of them asked me tonight when we were expecting to have the baby.
I looked at her with that stupid, what the eff are you talking about look I assume with people I think are dumb.
She said, "Are you still expecting?"
I'm sure my face said it all.
I'm not sure which one of us was more embarrassed when I told her we had the baby already.
Turns out H was born on her mom's birthday.
Thankfully, the awkward moment ended and I went back in the house.
Suddenly not feelin' as good about the 15 lbs I've dropped.
It's called a little dose of reality.