Once again, I went to bed last night to discover my four year-old growing roots on my husband's side of the bed. Apparently, while my husband's back was turned my son came out of his room, pillow in hand, and went to sleep in my room after diligently discarding my husband's pillow in his. Here's the thing about sleeping with my son, the dog won't sleep with us, so not only is there one less adult in my bed but there is also one less 70 pound basset-hound. Needless to say, I slept well, that is until a little crazy-haired girl woke me up at my bedside at one o'clock in the morning. Was she waiting for an invitation? Apparently. I still don't get why she stands there staring at me without utterly a single word. So I told her to climb in with her dad. We were full up. (I'm not mean, I swear-I was half asleep)
After an eventful night of musical beds, we all overslept, I was almost late for my ultrasound and my husband and I politely spoke profanities to one another so mommy and daddy appeared to be having a nice conversation. The fight stemmed from my husband agreeing to wake me and then waking me up late. His excuse, "I'm not your alarm clock." Why the hell would you agree to wake someone up if you weren't going to wake them up on time, I ask you? Is this the estrogen in me talking, or am I missing something here?
The ultrasound—that I almost missed—went well; I have three cysts in my left breast which were quote not sinister, but need to be followed up because they can sometimes turn into something more problematic. I am having frequent pain in my breast which they don't seem to be concerned with, I guess I am supposed to be grateful that it's not cancer and ignore the discomfort. I am grateful, don't get me wrong, but I would also like the pain to be alleviated. Am I being greedy? Perhaps.