You all know the book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible No Good, Very Bad Day, right? Well, I’m just grateful that I had a camera on hand to document some of mine.

Sunday morning I wake up not feeling well, but I’m pretty sure it’s bad karma to bail on church when you’re supposed to teach the women’s Sunday school class, so I drag myself out of bed. Mark had to be at church early for choir practice so it was up to me to get myself and Menininho fed, dressed, out the door and in the pew on time.

Usually this is not a huge deal.

My first problem was bananas for breakfast. Instead of eating them, my toddler mashed them up in his hands, until they made a chunky shampoo, which he then applied to his hair and eyebrows, generously.
AFTER my attempt to clean him, he still looked like this.
When I pulled his little church suit out of the closet I saw it was covered in cat hair. Do not ask me how a suit hanging in a closet was covered in Cat. Found him a tight pair of pants and too-big shirt.

Throughout this Menininho is screaming, of course. My husband calls to tell me he forgot his rice cake for the Sacrament, so could I please grab him one (having Celiac, he can’t take the piece of bread).

Now late, I realize I’m running around without my brace or shirt on. Turns out the only shirt I have clean shows all the straps on my brace through it, like I have tentacles reaching out from my midsection.
On the way out the door, carrying the baby, diaper bag, rice cake, husband’s scriptures, my bagel, and the keys, I drop said keys no less than 3 times.

We get to church just as they are finishing the sacrament. I set the baby down in the aisle and decide to walk very briskly up the stage to where the choir is to pass Mark his rice cake. Maybe not the best choice? Oh well.

Menininho and I spend the rest of the service in the foyer with other fidgety kids. Then he somehow cuts open his top gum, screaming hysterically and bleeding all over both of our shirts.

At that point I just handed him to Mark and sent them both home. All that is worth a do-over, don’t you think?

Our congregation had a family BBQ yesterday at our church’s softball field (Yes, our church has a softball field. Apparently a former church leader wanted to turn some extra church land into a softball field and the church finally agreed, if he’d pay the $90,000 to clean up the land and construct the field, and he did. Now, no one plays on it.). It was about 100 degrees out, maybe a little cooler. We slathered Menininho in sunscreen and his new hat so that he’d be OK in the heat. I had made strawberry jello (I caved in to the church lady stereotype!) with pieces of strawberry and marshmallows in it. It’s really quite good….when it gels. However, despite 6 1/2 hours in the fridge yesterday I had a soupy mess on my hands and we all had to drink the jello out of dixie cups. Darn

After about a half hour in the sun (well, technically under the massive tent thing that the Rickers brought), it was decided we should pack it inside and play volleyball instead. Since the Rickers stole Menininho for the duration of the event, I got to take lots of pictures!

We got invited to a Memorial Day BBQ. I was really thankful for the invite, as we don’t know many people yet. It was a potluck, so I brought some lemon cupcakes with chocolate frosting.  But, with the strawberry shortcakes someone else brought, my dessert wasn’t too popular!

After eating, I sat in the living room and made generic chat with the other women about gardening and babies. That was OK, until the president of the women’s service organization came up to Menininho and started playing with his feet and loudly cooing “Oh, poor Menininho! Your parents tried to give you diabetes and that Marfan disease! But you didn’t get those! No! You didn’t get those!”

My first reaction, a knee jerk one, was to say “It’s a disorder, not a disease. There’s a difference; get it right.” My second reaction was “Oh my gosh did you REALLY just say that? Because on what planet is that appropriate? My guess is Planet Offensive.” But, I bit my tongue and said neither of those things.

I totally respect that some people might not understand or agree with why Mark and I were willing to risk passing on Marfan to our child.  I would never try to push another Marf into having a baby just because it was the right decision for our family.  All we ask for is the same respect.  It boils my blood that someone would insinuate that I TRIED to or wanted my baby to be ill.