Spring is Stupid

April is busy for me what with pondering spring with its new beginnings, and staring at a giant bunny in my yard. This bunny leaves the most gigantic piles of bunny turds out there, right where she’s eating. My yard must be extremely high in fiber because I just can’t believe it. I’m going to take a picture. Then you’ll be sorry.

Our anniversary is tomorrow. Fourteen years, suckas! And you thought it wouldn’t last. I don’t know what it means that every year around this time Bryan asks, “How long were your parents married?” I hope I don’t find out that he had a secret bet with my dad and after our 19th anniversary, he’s going to call my dad and be like, “HA! I stayed married to one longer than you did. Pay up.” That would suck.

And Lena and Liberty turn 11 on Saturday. I haven’t even ruined them yet. Probably. April does sometimes kick me in the gut with the years-old fear that I had when things started to go downhill in my pregnancy and then Liberty’s surgery and recovery. I really have to tell myself that everything is fine and they’re both healthy and I’m not trapped inside a hospital while spring happens outside. I can eat whatever I want, not hospital food. And Liberty can breathe right on her very own. And I can see them both every single day instead of being too out of it and hemorrhage-y. I feel like I should get over it already, but it’s like body memory and when I look out the window at the sunshine and new leaves, I’m right back in that hospital looking out the window, watching spring happen, worrying, praying, crying, worrying, praying, crying.

Anyway, spring is stupid. Give me summer. Everything turned awesome that summer. Cute little onesies and babies who lived with me instead of at the hospital. And we’d put them in their little matching outfits and make them hug each other. And they liked it!