Saturday!

I want fake boobs. I was a double D for most of my adult life until pregnancy, when I ballooned to a triple Z... after breastfeeding for a year, my boobs are spent. It's like they felt as though they'd fulfilled their duty in this life, and they slowly faded away. Gone forever. FOREVER. Unless, of course, I pay a doctor a few grand to slice me open and pump my sorry excuse for a chest full of saline or silicone or gummy bears, whatever it is that they're using these days. Guess I'd better do my homework if this is something I really want to consider. And just think, it will probably be the only $5,000 purchase I ever make for myself that doesn't require me to promise endless sexual favors to my husband. MEN ARE PIGS.

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Ethan has moved from fussy McFussalot land to cutie McCutiepieville in the last few days. He was sick, then teething again, then had an ear infection. He was... less than pleasant. Now he's so much fun! Social and adventurous and smart, oh so smart, and he dances and runs and giggles and gives kisses and chases the dog, and on and on and on. He climbs now, too, which is terrifying. Nothing good about that as far as I'm concerned. Babies should stay on the ground, that's what I think, period. Christ. I AM A TOTAL MESS.

Anyway, he's awesome 99% of the time. The other 1% is filled with tantrums like I've never seen. Ethan will throw one of these tantrums over something as simple as, oh, me having to take his sippy cup away to re-fucking-fill it for him, and last week he freaked because he had to take a bath. Oh my. I put him in the tub per the usual and he screamed and screamed and screamed. And then, he stopped screaming. He was doing the silent scream. Mouth wide open, red-faced, teary-eyed... AND NOT BREATHING. Not breathing for, like, a minute. A WHOLE MINUTE. He started to turn purple and blue. I FLIPPED. I snatched him up from the tub, urging him to breathe, baby, breathe! I laid him down on the wood floor in the hallway and called for Drew, who came rushing over in a panic. I started to think he had something stuck in his throat. At this point he was totally blue, and I honest to God thought he was going to die. My next step was to turn him over on my forearm and do the back thrust, but then he started breathing again. I collapsed in a heap and just lost it. I have never, EVER, been so scared in my life. I have never been more worried. Drew stayed strong, hugged me, told me it was alright. After I got it together and carried on with Ethan's bath, I heard Drew sobbing from the living room. It was that bad. It was scary, that's all I can really say.

Later I called my mom to explain what had happened. Oh, yeah, you kids used to do that too, she said. Wha? This is normal? To get so angry that you STOP BREATHING!? She also informed me that, DUH, if he holds his breath for too long he'll just pass out and start breathing again. Ah ha! The VERY NEXT DAY I wanted to vacuum when I got home from work, but Ethan wanted me to hold him and vacuum. That wasn't happening. So, I let him throw a fit in the middle of the rug while I quickly vacuumed around him. He did the silent scream again. I picked him up after he'd held his breath for way too long, and he went limp in my arms. He passed out! Not 2 seconds later his eyes fluttered open, he puked on my arm (which gave me proof that his dad had fed him baked cheetos for dinner) and was fine.

Sometimes I just don't know about all this. I mean, damn, ya know? Sheesh.