this family of 3 (plus an oversized dog) is beyond ex.haust.ed.

WIPED OUT TIRED.

so depleted, in fact, that we are finding ourselves laughing like hyenas at nothing at all.

do you ever do that?

you’re just so tired that everything turns into something funny… you look at a clock and realize how much sleep you DIDN’T get and then laugh maniacally about it… or you look at your dog and seriously consider collapsing onto his dog bed, because while it is covered in abundant remnants of his shedding winter coat, it looks so plush and comfy…

or have your husband look at you and randomly say “remember when i was on that antibiotic a while back and jackson was interested in peeing while standing up, so he watched me and said ‘DAD THAT’S AN ORANGE ONE!’” and then you laugh so hard that you cry but you’re not sure if the tears are a sign of true laughter, sheer exhaustion, or the amount of pollen that has collected in your eyes and is now encrusted in the corners and becoming one with your mascara.

no? just me?

well then, AREN’T YOU SPECIAL?!?! (and most likely not a parent.)

speaking of special… this guy… THIS ONE… RIGHT HERE…

turned 3 on friday. 3 years old!!! i can’t believe i’ve survived 3 years at this parenting gig. it’s a frackin miracle y’all, i’m not even playing. where can i pick up my trophy?

just to make sure that paul and i were on our toes this weekend, with both sets of family in town to celebrate, jackson puked. cuz ya know, that’s what he does. pukes. for kicks.

jackson gave us the gift that keeps on giving, the reminder that he has CVS and “OH HELLO MOM AND DAD, REMEMBER WHEN I HAD A FEEDING TUBE AND WAS IN THE HOSPITAL ALL THE TIME AS AN INFANT BECAUSE I PUKED ALL DAMN DAY AND NIGHT? REMEMBER?!?!”

he shrugged it off and continued opening gift after gift after gift until it was time to go to easter sunday mass and then he proceeded to fake me out, exorcist-style, and go all pale and sickly looking and repeatedly tell me that his “tummy has a hurt.”

assuming that the archbishop would frown upon a kid puking in the naval academy chapel on easter sunday, i plucked jackson from the pew and strolled him on home.

(and actually, i was elated just a wee bit grateful because i have that whole former catholic guilt thing whereby i fear the burning depths of hell (psst… not sure i even believe in hell) after being raised in the catholic church and then straying from it due to an insurmountable number of issues… i *think* jesus will understand, but OH THE GUILT…)

so yeah, all things considered, we’re doing all right. jackson is 3 and spoiled rotten.

and paul and i have a surprising amount of beer and wine leftover from the festivities. BONUS!