No sooner had I published my last post than I started not hating the Boy anymore. I guess I just needed to see how nitpicky and minor my gripes were, all typed out like that, to get over myself. Of course, it doesn't hurt that Friday is my birthday, and from the looks of it, the Boy is going all out. At least three mysterious packages have arrived here this week. I don't think the Boy has ever given me three gifts at one time before, and I'm dying to know what's in those boxes.
Things are actually pretty good over here right now. M has taken to singing every chance she gets, and it cracks me up. She's got her Bert & Ernie CD pretty much memorized, and it's great to hear her singing along in the car. And if she's playing with her baby and I ask her to sing to it, she just makes up a song (the lyrics are gibberish, of course). It's so cute it kills me.
Speaking of babies, a friend of mine had one about two months ago. Unfortunately, he was pretty sick when he was born, so she just got to take him home last week. I got to hold him today, and I swear it's lucky she got him back. I'd forgotten how great newborns feel. In fact, it seems I've forgotten pretty much everything about tiny babies -- it took me a few minutes to remember how to hold one comfortably. But oh my god, I want one so badly.
Speaking of which, my HSG test is finally scheduled for Friday. I will be so glad to have it over with, even if the news is bad. At least we'll have some idea of what's going on. So, wish me luck!