Not The Favorite

Last week, Lauren threw on her Dunphy genes and tripped over her own feet landing face first on our front door. Welcome first black eye. I have to tell you, it was one of the fastest swelling and hugest goose eggs I had ever seen. This thing inflated like a balloon right in front on my eyes. I put my shoes and changed her diaper because I was sure that when Jon got home from getting coffee, we'd be off to the hospital. Check with the Princess, I was freaking out.

So when Jon came home I showed him our poor baby's head and asked if we should go to the hospital. So matter-of-factly he said, Jenn it's a bump. She'll be fine.

Not so convinced, I called Telecare and they told me everything would be fine. And told me to check on her before I went to sleep but instead, Lauren slept with Mommy that night (Side note: she kicks, punches and snores in her sleep.) Jon got the couch. Teach you to be calm...

Big Red has been much more frustrating lately. Normally, I am not one to gossip about co-workers. But really people, how hard is it to write something down instead of asking me for the millionth freaking time who's teaching the #@$# at the end of Sept??? I got an email this morning asking me about it, AGAIN, and I wrote this hugely nasty email in reply (something about Alzheimer's patients and senility). Then hit the cancel button and replied with the persons name.

And when we tell you that No, I wouldn't be ok with letting you start "helping" me with instructors. I mean it. Stop looking. You are only creating more work for me by making me double back over your "work." I'll tell you when I need help. I'm not overwhelmed, and please stop telling me that I am. Don't rock my boat because you're nervous about our upcoming busy season. I have shit under control. Thanks.

Labels: Big Red, Clumsy, Lauren