The Way Things are Done

In my family and in my life, things are best left to be done last minute.  Got a project due tomorrow that you have known about for two weeks?  Need to pass a final that is tomorrow and you haven't started studying?  Find out you are 30 weeks pregnant?  Yeah, that is how I roll.

Let me tell you the story of Monkey (my four year old boy).  Back in May 2006, about two days after I graduated college, I was laying on the bed watching TV.  I felt something move in my stomach.  It kinda felt like bubbles, but it wasn't a sensation I have ever felt.  So, I sent DBH over to Walgreens to get a pregnancy test.  Positive.  Ok, so I was pregnant.  The thing was, I wasn't supposed to be able to GET pregnant.  I have PCOS which is an infertility disorder (and keeps me from ovulating).  I was always told I could get pregnant with "help" but it would be hard for me to carry a pregnancy to term.  Since I am a bigger lady, I couldn't tell I was pregnant by looking.

One week later I finally get a sonogram done.  The results?  I am about 30 weeks along.  They don't really know my exact due date, but I am told the middle/end of August.  Yeah.  Panic.

Well, it wasn't the middle of August, heck it wasn't even the middle or the beginning of August.  Monkey decided to come at the end of JULY.  So, I knew I was pregnant for six weeks.  I will wait while you process that information.

Back with me?  Yes, six weeks after finding out I was pregnant and graduating college I had a newborn.  Thank goodness I actually managed to graduate first! lol  Monkey was born weighing 6 lbs 11 oz. and said to be four weeks early.  Mom tends to think he was a little earlier than that.  But, who am I to know?

I am sure Monkey will carry on the family tradition of procrastination.  After all, he did wait until six weeks before being born to let me know he was in there.

Seriously?

There is no way to admit to this to make me look like less of a dork, so I will just come out and say it.  I cut my lip last night.  With what, you may ask?  A razor.  Seriously.

No, I am not a man.  Let me give you a little background information.  I have a medical condition called Poly-Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS).  Besides PCOS giving me the opportunity to get fatter by the day, darking skin, and infertility, I have the honor of facial hair.  No, not the baby fine hair most women have.  I am talking about full on thick granny whiskers.  Nice.  Thankfully it isn't a full on beard.

So, back to the story.  Last night I noticed a few granny hairs on my upper lip.  I was tired and didn't fell like plucking, so I picked up my leg shaver.  Now, I am not a novice, I have done this many times and NEVER managed to cut myself.  Well, until last night.

While, it is just a nick, it hurt like crazy and wouldn't stop bleeding.  I went to bed with a band-aid on my lip.  It was still bleeding this morning.  When I got to school, it had thankfully stopped.  As I had to talk/teach all day, it kept starting to bleed again.

On the way home from school, I took a picture, see below.

Yeah, not a flattering pic.  Notice the red bump above my lip.

So, this picture does not do it justice.  Seriously, I should have a crater on my face for the pain this caused.

I had to come up with an excuse for the people at school.  Imagine telling 125 sixth graders you cut you lip shaving?  Not. Going. To. Happen.   So, I had to come up with a cover story.  It had to be believable, at least by sixth graders.  My cat did it.  Yeah, that is the ticket.  After all, didn't the dog eat their homework?