I should be in bed because Ben and I were up for 2 hours cleaning up carrot puke (thanks a lot, HARRY) last night, but I am pretty sure Dorothy is going to wake up any second, so I don't want to get too comfortable with my Jane Green novel. Ben is already in bed, meaning I have once again been doing some late night shopping. This is on its way among other things. How could I resist? Her name is Dorothy, after all, and she already has red ballet slippers and she has outgrown her 6-12 month dresses. My hands were tied really.
I am so tired of not losing weight, but not tired enough to DO anything about it, apparently. Seems like no segue, right? But I swear I can feel my wedding ring getting tighter by the second from my salty steak taco and beer dinner, so I guess it was more of an internal transition.
It was 40 degrees almost here, which was a heatwave. I wore rain boots and a fleece. I took everyone but sickie Harry on a puddle-jumping walk, even. See?
He's so shy he needed to bring his paci along. Sometimes he needs it at Kindermusik, too-- I can relate because Kindermusik is also WAY outside my comfort zone
OK. It's 10:00, and I haven't been this tired in years. Want to bet that she wakes up the second my head hits the pillow?