Since Vivian's arrival home, our cup runneth over. A surf and turf dinner, flower arrangements, a hand knit sweater and hat. Offers to let us sleep, go grocery shopping and give Ella a bath have all been met with rabid enthusiasm. Parents come over and dishes are done and our refrigerator has been restocked. We are extremely lucky. And then there was the gift that left Jerry and I scratching our heads. Our neighbor brought over a watering can for Ella (sweet) and an offer for two free parent-coaching sessions (um, what?). I know, I know, she must not have heard that I have been voted "Mother-of the Year" for the second straight year or that Jerry was recently elected as president of the American Association of Midwives (he was a shoo-in after his harrowing performance two weeks ago today). Seriously, parent-coaching? What can this woman possibly hear from across the street? Especially after we had our windows up-graded? Certainly not the bargaining, bickering, arguing and lamenting between two sleep deprived parents and their two year old. Nay.
Thankfully, we haven't yet gotten a "gift" from the block's psychiatrist. Although some Ambien and Lexipro may do the body good right now. I'd even be up for a brief admission some place quiet. Hint, hint.
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