Today I woke up at about 8 when the boys were still asleep. I put on PJ's, went downstairs, walked the dogs, straightened the kitchen, and was watering the plants when Henry began crying. Went up, got him, fed him, and put him in the gated community to make a ruckus while I made tea. At about 10, husband ran into the kitchen in his pajamas.
"There you are!" he said. "Get back upstairs. We're supposed to bring you breakfast in bed!"
"I already had some yogurt!" I protested meekly.
"Woman!" Husband replied, and so, snerking, I went back upstairs and turned on the TV to drown out the sounds of pans clattering and elvin cursing and Henry screaming. After a few minutes of this, I saw the car pull out of the driveway. A few minutes later, it returned, and husband, looking slightly haggard, returned with the baby and a dilly of little mini blueberry biscuits from burger king. Somehow, Henry was covered with pancake batter. So guess who got to give the baby a bath before she took a shower because someone was exhausted from their morning of labor? Meeee!

So then my mommy and daddy and their mess'o'kids came over. I made tea and scones. We sat on the deck and watched the neighborhood deer nibble at my tomato plants.
"And now it is time for gifts!" my dad proclaimed, and produced two small velvet covered boxes of superfluouness, and handed them with flourish to my mommy and me.
"Oh. My." I said.
"Oh dear." my mother said.
"Those are genuine replicas of Princess Diana's wedding ring!" My dad said proudly.
"We already have wedding rings, daddy." I pointed out, but my mother kicked me in the shin. So I put it on my right hand. Oh boy!*

Then we were moving some stuff from the new baby's room into the garage to make way for a crib. Husband looked up at the top shelf.
"Ellie."
"Yeeeees?"
"Did you steal the neighbor's canoe?"
"No. They were throwing it away. I salvaged it. There's a difference."
"What are you planning on doing with it?"
"Canoeing!"
"It's full of holes.'
"We have duct tape."
So now it's out there with the trash. What a jerk.

As mother's day wound to a close, it was time to call my Grandmama. I locked myself in the bathroom, (with Roswell throwing himself against the door,) and called their house.
"Hello!" a man's voice answered.
"Hi, Grandaddy!" I said.
"Grand-dad? Oh honey, I don't know if your granddad is here. What's your name?" He replied.
"It's me, Granddaddy." I replied. "It's Ellie!"
"Who?"
"Ellie!"
"Hello!" He replied. I was about to hang up and try again when all of a sudden I heard a voice shouting behind him and the sounds of a brief but ferocious struggle. Finally Violet, their housekeeper, picked up the phone.
"Honey I'm sorry about that!" she chirped. "He's in a state today. You want to talk to your Grandma?"
"yes, please." I sighed. So then I told my Grandmama about my day, and about how I'm feeling, (bloated, exhausted, swollen, and sore,) and she told me about her hip surgery, and also about her sweet new shoes. I could hear my grandpa and Violet shouting at each other in the background as she tried to get him to put on pants.**
"Anyways. I'm just fine. Do you want to talk to your grandfather?" she asked.
"NOOOOO!!" I shouted.

Tomorrow I have to take colliedog to the groomer's, go to work, go to the doctor, take Henry to his baby socialization thing***, pick up colliedog from the groomer's, and finish out the syllabus for the rest of the year in absentia.

At least there was key lime pie.

* My dad is strange about things. The last time we watched TV together, we mocked the royal wedding endlessly. I know my mom was genuinely excited to get such a thing, but I couldn't figure out why he'd think I wanted something like that until I realized that if you buy one ring, you get a second one free. Thanks, Dad. I really care about you too. :P

**My Grandpa, for whatever strange reason, insists that he won't wear pants unless it's very cold. He knows just how senile he is, and he's barely lucid enough to use that senility to his advantage. It's incredibly frustrating for poor Violet.

*** It turns out there is such a thing for teaching social skills to murderous babies. You just kind of toss them all on the floor and let them work it out. I am thrilled by this- my son is the biggest, toughest kid in class. Take that, adorable girl with poofy pigtails who hit him with a train! He sat on her.