Or Maybe I Should Just Shut Up

Hello, internets.

This is going to be a quick one because now both, not one, of my kids are sick and I am back at work. Spring Break is over. And I strongly suspect, from the roiling in my own gut, that I might be getting whatever the kids have, which begs the question of whether I should go to class on Wednesday and possibly vomit on some poor kid's backpack.

However, I am aware that, especially for this nascent blog, it's been too long. Some things I need to address are:

1)How was the ex-in-laws' visit to me?
2)How was the return of The Boyfriend?
3)Why did I buy approximately $150 worth of night cream for said return?
4)How was the experience of having the ex threaten legal action when I wouldn't change plans at last minute on Sunday and THEN decide to show up four hours late anyway?
5)Am I making my son gay by letting him have a maribou-trimmed Easter basket (a present from the neighbors)?
6)Am I kidding myself that Easter eggs and the like are not as Christian as Christmas trees and the like (I know, I know. But we're not Christian and check out the origins of the word "Easter." It's pretty explicitly secular and spring-focused, much more directly so that Baby Jesus day)?
7)What, in fact, did happen at the Harper Valley PTA meeting last Thursday?

All in good time, my friends. All in good time.
In the meanwhile, let me leave you with this tableau:

It's midnight on Saturday. The Boyfriend and I have been talking for three hours or so about some pretty heavy topics: his discomfort with my maintaining a friendship with L. of Like a Virgin fame, possible future plans, etc. My daughter V. has just thrown up twice, in her bed, and I have given her to The Boyfriend to hold, at her request, while I clean up. Then we've put her to bed and I've gone and dumped the dirty sheets in the wash. While down there, I've noticed that my shirt has barf on it, so I return to the kitchen in a bra and jeans.

The Boyfriend is doing my dishes. When I enter the room he tells me he's worried about V. Then, still scrubbing, he gets that slackjawed ogling look that tells me the Titty Center of his brain has just activated and proceeds to leer at me, charmingly, when he scrubs.

I was unfair in my previous rant, is what I'm saying. Because a dude who's doing your dishes, comforting your sick daughter, and glazed with lust all in the space of ten minutes is a dude worth knowing.

Also, he still has a magical penis. Just sayin'.