My boys never call me Mama. If I ask where Mama is in a photo, they will point to me – Jaxon can even pick me out of a high school photo, with my weird flipped bangs. But they don’t call me Mama. They call Matt “Daddy”. Jaxon even calls my mom “Mema”. But me? I remember joking that they would call me Jessie or Booble. Nope. They call me Daddy. I discovered this a few days ago. My mom had the boys and was headed towards the store (I was locking the car) and Jaxon turned around and yelled “Daee!” pointing at me. *Sigh* I guess I’ll have to work on that.
Tonight was movie night and my sister hosted. She picked out Apocalypo, which was good. I’m sure everyone had seen it already, but it was nice change to watch something from this decade. Anyhow, Jaguar Paw was a daddy, just like me. I remember my dad and my sister giving Jaguar Paw’s wife a bunch of shit for not standing on the side of the pit so that she could float up in the rainwater, but let me just tell you from someone who has given birth without the joyous awesomeness that is an epidural – I think that chick was doing quite alright for someone standing nose deep in a pit of water with a 3 year old on her shoulders and pushing a baby out between her legs. Just thinking about that is making me nauseous so I’ll end this blog with photos from tonight (yes, I know this is kind of a cop-out, but I don’t feel so hot…) Ugh… period! *Shakes fist angrily at sky*
Have a great weekend everyone!