Not Me Monday: Royal Wedding Edition
- I did not sacrifice precious sleep on Friday by getting up at 6 a.m. to watch the royal wedding
- I did not regret sacrificing the aforementioned sleep ALL DAY as I yawned constantly
- When I needed to wake up Darling Husband for work, I kissed him sweetly and brought him coffee in bed. I definitely did not race into the bedroom at 7 a.m. and hurriedly announce, “It’s seven! Wake up! Bye!”
- When Darling Husband asked what he was bringing to work for lunch, I stopped watching and lovingly prepared a fresh, healthy lunch. I did not hiss, “Food! Figure it out. Shh!”
- When Baby Boy woke up for the day, I took my time changing him and dressing him in the perfect outfit. I would never grab him from his crib and race back to the living room, waiting to change his diaper and PJs until after the ceremony was over
- I did not let Baby Boy eat crumbly bits of muffin and drippy bits of watermelon in the living room, on the carpet, because I didn’t want to leave the
TVwedding celebration. Nope, not me!
My Husband Rocks Friday
Dear Darling Husband,
You know how every single time you leave the condo, I stand in the window (with Baby Boy, if he’s awake)? And watch you walk to the car? And wave at you as you drive away? And blow a kiss?
I think that is a good thing.
I think it is a sign that I love you a lot.
And you know what else?
I have a pretty good view when I look through that window.
Can I just say that your calf muscles are looking HOTTTTTTT?
I love shorts season.
Love, your wife
xoxo
Busy x 10,000,000
Life is going by so quickly these days.
You know the expression, “There aren’t enough hours in the day”?
SO freaking true!
It feels like between taking care of Baby Boy — the world’s busiest little 10-month-old who is now RUNNING around the condo in this hilarious little drunken sailor fashion — keeping up with the housework, cooking, cleaning up after meals (read: the messy 10-month-old), getting the condo ready for showings, doing the showings (curse you, private sale), and doing a whack-load of freelance work, I am just … just … writing the world’s longest sentence, apparently. And tired. And stuff.
I am getting very tired of constantly feeling like I have to race from one thing to the next. Life is not a race. It shouldn’t be, at least. But it’s in my nature to keep DOING until things are DONE. The trouble is, what the hell happens when IT CAN NEVER ALL BE DONE? When there is never enough time? How are people like me supposed to cope with that?
Mat leave is officially over as of next Friday. I will officially be “not working” for a living. Oh my. What will I do with the BUCKETS and OODLES of FREE TIME that I’ll have by NOT WORKING?
Sorry, I’m a little sarcastic and punchy from lack of sleep.
And lack of free time.
I used to do this thing called “scrapbook.”
And this other thing called “read books TO MYSELF.”
And sometimes — I think — this thing called “sewing.”
I must be mistaken. I’d probably run my fingers over if I dug poor, abandoned old Mr. Singer out from Baby Boy’s closet my crafting room.
OK, going to end this haphazard stream-of-consciousness post with putting some wishes out there into the bloggy-blog universe:
- I wish our condo will SELL ALREADY to maybe ease up this MEGA-BURDEN on my bank account/shoulders/mind/life
- I wish I could find some time to do creative projects again. Scrapbooking! Sewing! OMG, I used to PAINT AND EVERYTHING! I forgot!
- I wish for a schedule/life with a smidgen of stability — like with Darling Husband’s work madness — so that I might reclaim something resembling a “normal life”
Mobile bloggy-blogging
Please bear with me, readers, while I stumble into the world of blogging on my new phone.
While I think it will be amazeballs once I’ve gotten the hang of it, right now my fingers hurt. Badly. Ow.
Not sure how to add a photo, so you’ll have to Google your own pic of a chick with carpel tunnel.
XOXO
Not Me Monday: Easter edition
- At my sister-in-law’s house for Good Friday dinner, I did not begin eating Baby Boy’s spaghetti dinner — off his tiny plastic baby spoon — once he lost interest in it. I would never be so
childishhungry that I couldn’t wait for the adults to eat. - During Easter mass, I did not lean over and (not-so-quietly) whisper to Darling Husband, “There are a LOT of old people here, and almost no young people. What happens when all of them die, like, soon? The church needs to do something to attract young people! I should start something!” while he frantically tried to shush me. I would never be so age-ist.
- Before Easter dinner (at my other sister-in-law’s house), I did not slip nursing pads into my bra (even though I don’t need them anymore), just so my boobs would be a little bigger. I would never be that vain.
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