1. I'm going to change the name of this blog to "Yearly Elle" that way if I post things any more frequently than once a year I'll be doing pretty well.
2. I've literally been consumed with applying for/interviewing for/studying for a job as a high school guidance counselor at a high school in the area for the last 2 weeks (at least) and finally, after I thought they were going to ask for a drop of my blood, to name my next child after their superintendent, or perhaps, for me to submit to some sort of genetic screening they offered me the job. And I said no....
hahahahah just kidding, I said yes.
I'm pretty sure the only person they DIDN'T call to ask for a reference for me was the babysitter I had growing up. For real. They were calling people that I 1. did not tell them they could 2. did not give them the name of 3. did not give them the phone number of and 4. Ok, I don't have a four but holy FBI. All I have to say is good thing I have a squeaky clean background because I'm sure they know about that time my dad found a bottle of Bicardi Limon under the seat of my car but never told me about it. Hi Dad.
Elle was a little sick yesterday. On the way home from daycare I called her doctor to run through her symptoms, etc. They were supposed to call me back shortly, so I got home, was carrying her in when, what did she do but puked everywhere. E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E. Literally 30 seconds later the phone rings, and I'm thinking "oh good, the Doctor is calling" and, I answer. With a moaning/fussy covered in puke baby in my arms. and who do you think it is Mr. FBI (AKA The superintendent) offering me the position. Can you say poor timing. So I talk to him for a bit, explain that I am covered in puke, he offers to call back, and I say "there's no way this is going to be cleaned up in a reasonable amount of time, so we can just talk now" and that was it.
Afterwards, when running through the story with Bryan he says "I wouldn't have answered the phone, you could have called him back." Well isn't hindsight just 20/20 Mr. You Didn't Have Puke All Over and Thought It Was The Doctor Calling to Help But Instead the FBI Called to Offer Me A Job So Shut Your Face
Anywho, in the picture above Elle is wearing my necklace, probably some lip gloss, and bronzer. These are her new favorite toys; my makeup and my jewelry. To say that both Bryan and I are terrified of what's to come is an understatement. She knows how to put makeup on, she knows where earrings go, she knows how to put on these necklaces, and will stand in my closet moving her arms back and forth through the clothes like she's trying to decide what to wear.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I've created a monster.