Fool Me Once

Yesterday SeaFed’s third child was decanted at some sort of modern medical institution. For those playing along at home, only one of those children is mine. For reasons of her own, Franny is in a bit of a funk about gaining a new sibling, and I will confess to you that the gleeful ebullience in the voicemail he left me yesterday made me slightly nauseated. This was followed by a picture of the new baby in my email which has the same giant pumpkin head as the other child. Is it less a case of Tiny Vagina, and more a case of what the medical community refers to as “casaba cabeza.”

I am dying to know if they still have lice, but not enough to, like, ask. You know? I guess I will find out when Franny comes back on Monday.

So things were a little wacky over here last night, and both of my girls ended up falling asleep in my bed while I stayed up and watched new Big Love. My girls are still fairly small and Franny is about as thin as a sheet of paper right now, so I slid in beside them with Strudel in the middle.

Of course Strudel spent half the night kicking me and the other half crowding me, with a little intermittant blanket hogging thrown in for variety. Feet up in my ribcage reminded me of being pregnant with her, when her primary occupations were kicking, drinking her own pee, and killing off the competition.

Finally, around 4:30, Strudel crept over to Franny’s side of the bed, which was immediately deemed COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE. Sometimes Franny reminds me how much bullshit I put up with unquestioningly, and then I remember that Franny is a lot of the reason I learned how to put up with booshit. Twist.

“STRUDEL,” Franny stage-hissed. “MOVE OVER.” “STRU. DEL. MOOOOVE!”

Of course Strudel could sleep through a café full of Northface jacket-wearing Seattleites fighting over the last vegan, gluten-free, sustainably-sourced croissant in the pastry case.

“OW!” Strudel said finally, half-asleep.

“OUT FRANNY,” I said. Franny sniffled and stumped off to her own bed and Strudel oozed back over to my side of the bed, where she stayed until my alarm went off at six, leaving Nietzsche at least half of my queen-sized bed.

And no one learned ANYTHING.

In Other News

This fucking guy is cracking me up today. Do stick around for the comments section. I posted that I thought it was satire, and I want to believe, I do. Speaking of no one learned anything, all this young hombre is going to conclude from this little crusade is that The Internet is Mean. which, well, duh.

3 thoughts on “Fool Me Once

  1. Pingback: The Internet Is Mean at Faux Real

  2. Ohhhh, casaba cabeza! Methinks that lice and newborns should not mix, but I guess I’m a cleanfreak. Hasn’t Franny passed on the Listerine Treatment Advice?

    My favorite comment from the Right to Text is “If you want to text with your friends, why not step out of the class – and keep stepping.”

  3. Yes, she has passed on the Listerine advice, as have I, this year and last. The problem sounds like follow through–no daily checks.

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