– It pains me to say this, because it sounds so gross, but I have a corn on the bottom of my foot. At least, I think I do, based on a self-diagnosis from the All Mighty Google. If you’re unfamiliar with that disgusting term, it basically means I have a really painful callus that won’t go away and makes walking ouchy. Why they have to go and name it something that churns up visuals of lumpy corn-like growths on you, I have no idea.

Anyway, I’ve been trying to home remedy the sucker for a while now, but to no avail. Foot soaks, pumicing, lotioning and removing the shoes that caused pain SHOULD have helped, I thought, but no. I even wandered into the unknown — the foot aisle at the drugstore — and bough corn pads to alleviate the pressure. If that doesn’t make me sound 82, I don’t know what does.

I guess the time has come to suck it up and call a podiatrist. That’s one of those doctors who when you call, you know you’ve reached a Certain Age. The pediatrician carries you through your childhood, your first trip to the gynecologist ushers you into womanhood.  Making this appointment is like my ticker tape parade leading me to 30’s door. Next up: colonoscopies and cataract screenings.

– Since we’re talking about feet (YOU’RE WELCOME), I ordered almost $200 worth of shoes for Owen yesterday. (Side note: why, oh WHY are toddler shoes so expensive? I ordered four pairs! If that’s not a rip off, I don’t know what it.) (Side note #2: trust me, I’ve looked at the cheaper options, but at this point, my fat footed child needs some shoes that fit, and fit well, so suck it up I must.)

I used Zappos since they have free shipping both ways. I figure one pair has got to fit (right? RIGHT????) and then I can just send the rest back, easy peasy. With my luck none will work, and I’m going to have to submit Owen to a life of a hobo. I’m probably going to have to bite the bullet and buy the kid some Crocs for the summer. You know how I feel about those “shoes”, but I believe that the only time those things look cute is in miniature form and hey, they’re easy to clean and will probably fit his Shrek feet.

– I had to get my RhoGAM shot yesterday. (See link if you’re interested in it. It has to do with preventing my body from creating antibodies that would destroy the baby’s red blood cells. Sounds scarier than it is; it’s really just a preventative measure. It’s super common and most women who have a negative blood type need to get the shot. They give it to you in the top of your butt cheek and it hurts like a bitch, but better that than having my body eat my baby, I suppose.)

I had to take Owen with me, so you can imagine how thrilled I was to pull up and see this sign in the hospital parking lot.

While he can of course walk, as soon as he gets out of the car he wants me to carry him. I’m working on getting him to hold my hand and walk into places more on his own, but he only does it sometimes. Also, since the appointment was in the Infusion Center of the hospital — a long walk through the parking lot, the lobby, up an elevator and down another long hallway — had I let him walk the whole way we would have been 45 minutes late. That was my long, drawn out way of saying YAY PARKING SPOT.

More places need parking like that. Or, drivethru windows. (I’m looking at you, POST OFFICE.)

– Owen has been back to waking at 5:30 a.m. this week. No bueno, child of mine. I’m going to see if I can get him to snuggle in bed with me now with some books. Maybe a morning nap is in our future. (HA. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.)