While nothing extraordinary took place, this past week did feel like a busy one, leaving me with a few things on my plate and on my mind…

 T-Ko and I finally got the chance  to go see a movie. We went to see “Dark Knight” and it freaked the shit out of me. The entire time, I had my sleeves covering my eyes and my nails digging into T-Ko’s hand. When we left, I thanked g-d that I wasn’t pregnant because I would for sure have had to call the doctor the next day, convinced that my shpilkes during all of  The Joker’s scenes had caused something terrible to happen to the baby. Of course, I was also convinced that at 7 months pregnant, I had caused my baby to go deaf after seeing another summer blockbuster. Seriously, “Ratatouille” was very loud…
Wacky’s lecture this week was about “not labeling” your baby. For example, if your baby falls and bops their head on the floor and starts crying, you don’t want to say “You’re okay, you’re okay,” because in a way, you are telling your child that they have to be okay (and not have their own emotions). Instead, you want to say “Oh, you fell. That looked like it hurt…”  OR another example, if your baby tends to get physical when playing with other children, you don’t want to say that he/she is “aggressive,” as they will personify that label and start to actually act like it. Instead you want to say that they’re “excited” and “engaged.”  
SO, I have been thinking about Wacky’s lecture and trying to apply it to my marriage, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got it down: I shouldn’t say T-Ko is  “lazy” because he doesn’t do the dishes.” He’s just “not a good helper.” 
My cleaning lady acted like she was solving a crime when she looked at me suspiciously and asked me if I was pregnant. 
(I will take another minute to let you digest this. AGAIN). 
YES. For the second time in a week, I was asked if I was pregnant (which I am not). She is a very kind, sweet lady, but I was less than thrilled  when she pointed to my dress and said, “Yaay-Ko, you skinny, but I think you pregnant in that dress,” (say in Spanish accent).
It’s official. The Empire Waist Gods have it out for me.
I took two Tae-Bo classes this week, watched what I ate, doubled up on Colace and voila: lost 2 pounds. It’s not as much as I had hoped for, so as I go into my final week of my 30 day diet, I am happy to announce my 30 day diet has now turned into a 60 day one.  
When I asked T-Ko how I should end a blog that really has no end (or beginning for that matter), he said I should talk about how much I love him….

T-Ko, I DO love you. You’re my best friend. And the funniest person I know. Now please go do the fucking dishes.
The end.
FILED UNDER: A Little Life

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