April Fool's.

Babies really have a way of coming in and taking over everything, ever crevice of your thoughts, being and day-to-day life.

I remembered it was April Fool’s Day around 11 last night. Jason was feeding Addy one last time; I had been sick all day recovering from my procedure. The combo of anesthesia, pain killers and no food for 48 hours had me kneeling over the toilet every hour on the hour for most of the day. I wasn’t really up to pranks. But I gave it a half-assed attempt.

“I’m worried maybe I’m pregnant,” I said to Jason, unable to feign the slightest bit of animation in my voice.

"Oh, really?”

"I mean, I’ve been throwing up and tired all day. This is what happened last time.”

Before Jason even had a chance to react I shouted, “April Fools!” I’ve really lost the rhythm of this whole joking thing.

Since we remembered the significance of the day we thought about calling his parents and trying to convince them I was pregnant again, with twins. We had the scheme all worked out but then decided we were too tired to pull it off. So we went to bed.

This morning I realized we completely forgot St. Patrick’s Day, too. And it’s usually a holiday we celebrate—Jason and I are all over any excuse to drink beer and eat corned beef. This year it came and went without a hint of green.

Oh well. As long as we don’t forget our wedding in two months I’m just fine with Addy trumping all the holidays.