It didn't begin so badly. I woke up, alive. That's always good.
But then, when the kids were with the babysitter, Ellias, pushing his sister in an umbrella stroller, let go. And she landed, lips first, in the back of a truck. Blood. Crying. Fat lip, as you can see. It made me sick with sadness. As far as I'm concerned, she should never be hurt. Ever.
And then, Ellias, who loves to come to the bathroom with me, got a new mantra. "Mama," he said. "You have a hairy gina."
Well. I guess, technically, this is true. It's not like I'm bald, and since becoming a mother I've given up my adult modeling career and no longer shave little heart emblems into my pubic hair (I trust that you won't believe this), but still. Still. Hairy gina is just not very appealing. It makes it seem so...hairy. Like a muppet. Or a monster. Or a hamster.
Thankfully, that was Friday. And today is going much better. No blood. No mention of the nether regions. Keep your fingers crossed.