Schmoopy

We spent the past weekend with three other couples, one married about 8 months less than us (but dated for much longer), one married for about two months, and one due to be married in one month (but also dating for years upon years). None of the three couples has children or impending children, so while they imbibed the alcohol and uh, other stuff, I looked on. Fortunately, I’ve gotten mostly used to not drinking since I did it so infrequently in the 15 months between giving birth and getting pregnant anyway.

One of the three couples, was, shall we say, schmoopy? I love Esposo. I think he’s got a great butt. I think he’s got a great smile, and he makes me laugh. But if I ever start calling him ‘lover’ in a non-sarcastic manner, please throw softballs at my head. The effect of schmoopiness by another couple on me is the make me decidedly UN-schmoopy. My sarcasm gets harsher to combat the sap in the air.

The non-kid-contingent had also planned for a foray to an art show. Ah yes, that’s what an 18 month old needs, art shows. Also, Esposo and I are not tremendously culturally literate. And we don’t care. We see some shows, but the King Tut exhibit? I think I’ve seen enough Egyptian relics in my lifetime. I might go if it were free. And I wasn’t trying to amuse an 18 month old.

In other news, Luke had his 18 month appointment yesterday (He’s 18 months old, did you get that yet?) and is solidly average – 50/60 percentile in height and weight, 75th in head circumference. Each time we head to the doctor for a regular visit, they provide us with a sheet that details what milestones Luke should be reaching at this time.

Like running. He should start running awkwardly soon. Or, you know, four months ago. And now he runs like a crackhead, screaming from room to room. The milestone sheets? Not so helpful. Of course, the doctor asked if he knew he shapes, and I was all, uh, I haven’t been TEACHING him his shapes. So, yeah, inadequate mommy. Maybe I should whip up some flashcards?