Going Gray

I think, going forward, I'm going to start photographing each gray hair that I find, while also naming it after the specific Brigid-related moment that caused it. Because you can't tell me that these things that just happened to start appearing when Brigid joined the mix aren't a direct result of her joining the mix.

And really, telling her the story over and over and over again about the amount of pain I was in while trying to tough it out at home through my overnight contractions, because the triage nurse didn't seem to think I was that far along when I went to the hospital at 8PM the night before, only to have that same triage nurse cheerfully tell me 'We expected you back here HOURS ago!' when I finally went back at 5AM the next morning* will only get me so far, I think.

I'm going to have to get creative if I want to stay at the top of my guilt game.

So, remind me to document the gray hair named Brigid woke up at midnight calling 'daddy, help me!', only Steve didn't hear it, so I had to wake him up so he would, in fact, go help her with what apparently was a need to potty in the big potty, even though she is not remotely close to potty trained, and really, I'm kind of afraid to even try starting that process again, since she hated the idea of it so much last time, she just decided to hold EVERYTHING in for extended periods of time when I get some free time, ok?

Thanks.


*Seriously, I don't think I will EVER stop telling that story to people. And I know I will never NOT get mad at that nurse when I do...

She was just SO. DARN. CHEERFUL!!!