1. Final countdown for molar numero quatro means very little sleep was had by all last night. This resulted in a house being left with an unattended stove burner burning merrily away, a case of inverted underwear whose wearer shall remain nameless, and a heated debate in the car on the merits of McDonald’s vs. Starbucks coffee (I know, how sad that anyone would enter into this debate in favor of Mickey D’s) and the tragedy that perhaps many adults have never tasted a truly great cup o’ brew and therefore continue to bolster the sales of Folgers/Maxwell House and the like. So much ignorance. So much suffering. Such a sad little First World convo.
2. Joey spent the entirety of the morning whining, dripping snot (sorry, teething produces more fluids than any other natural process known to man, including birth, and it is freaking disgusting), and circling my legs like a baby shark, bedecked in all of mommy’s old racing medals which clanked merrily around his scrawny neck and carrying a tiny, one-armed statue of Padre Pio which he occasionally and piously kissed/worshiped. (For the benefit of all my non-Catholic readers)
3. I dump-cleaned (husband’s term) my ‘central command station:’ a beleaguered Pottery Barn armoire we inherited in one of our many moves and which serves as our collecting dumping ground for bills/craft items which I will never use to make anything crafty/cast off electronics and vitamins, prenatal or otherwise. Dump cleaning basically involves throwing away 99% of the content of whatever you happen to be cleaning, and scores high on the emotional gratification scale, especially for a preggo. Plus, it’s cheaper than a retail therapy session in the Target dollar bins.
4. I add items to my to-do list even after they’ve been completed, if only to check them off and feel the rush of victory. Sad. True. Potentially evidence of mental illness.
5. My mother in law bought me this for Christmas and let me tell you, it has been life-altering. Case in point, I have only been to Starbucks thrice in the entire month of January. Who needs foam when you can make it at home?
6. I’ve spent a lion’s share of most mid-days this week listening to this guy via the internets, and I feel deeply and spiritually motivated not to shop by the end of each show, which is probably the answer to my loving husband’s daily prayers.
7. A trip to the gym may or may not be in order when the little man awakens, depending entirely upon whether or not we can feign ‘wellness’ sufficiently to be declared germ-free for the Kid’s Club. Yes, I’m one of those terrible, selfish moms who sends my visibly ill child into the germy enclosure of communal toys and sharing time. But in my defense, any and all illnesses from the past 4 months have been contracted there as a result of similarly negligent mothers desperate for an hour of kickboxing class and free HGTV, so I guess I’m in good company. (Disclaimer: I would never send him in with tummy issues)
So there you have it folks. A day of week-ending glamor in the life of a SAH/WAH mom.
I know, I know… roll tape. We livin’ the high life. Maybe Jen’s doing something even more interesting.