Me (on Wednesday night, upon arriving at a surprise engagement celebration for my brother and his girlfriend-now-fiancè, an hour after the proposal): “I don’t know about you guys but I’m so excited! Like, I couldn’t focus at all at work, I was just so eager to get here and just overall hyped up! Wasn’t it hard to get through the day!?”
Steph: “I was fine.”
(Aright, well. I’m still excited. Mazel tov Zack and Julie!)
Nanny: “Nora should be holding her own bottle for her feedings.”
Me: “I KNOW. Believe me I’ve tried, but she just won’t do it.”
Nanny: “You just make her do it and she will do it.”
Me: “You think I haven’t tried ‘making’ her do it?! She won’t do it! Honestly, I don’t think she can yet. She’s not ready.”
Nanny: “She is ready.”
Me (annoyed): “Ok, I appreciate your input, but I think I know my own kid.”
One hour later:
That cunning little minx.
Eric: “You realize I’m pretty much fully moving in tomorrow, right?”
99% of me: “I know, I’m so excited!”
1% of me:
Love is when you can comfortably express to him, in precise and vivid detail, exactly what this stomach bug is doing to your digestive tract.