Well... first off all, sorry that my last post was kind of a drag. People think that us blog writers/administrators/editors/producers and CEO's have a fanciful, care free life, but that is just not so. That is a common misconception. I put my pants on one leg at a time, just like the rest of you common folk. I'm not living high off the hog here myself, either. We had stew for supper, OK, so that should tell you A LOT about the kind of life I lead.
Anyways, upon rereading said blog it has come to my attention that maybe in some ways I am sugar coating life at home with the kids. Yes it is true that we chased snowflakes and stomped through puddles, but it is also true that I've been puked on, peed on, and yes- even poohed on. I've had kids screaming and crying in time out. I've phoned my husband at work in tears, pleading with him that he HAS to come home because I don't know how much longer I can stick it out for, baby shrieking in the background, dog barking, cat meowing cuz she's in heat (again)- and for anyone who's ever heard a cat in heat- it can scarcely be called meowing. I've had "The best of both worlds" by Hannah Montana stuck in my head for so long now I can't hardly do anything with out starting the refrain "You get the limo out front...". I know all the words by heart and even have my own rendition of "You get the best of both boobs" to which I sing to Alex when I'm nursing him. I have the whole family singing it, and I'm bracing myself for the eventual call from the Public School Board System. Anyways.
I finally did it... I went to Superstore yesterday and I bought a container of baby formula for the Food Bank. I went to bed last night, feeling so excited. I wonder if that baby is drinking that bottle right now? I was wondering. I could almost picture it. It's a good feeling to give back- although I must admit that I bought the President's Choice Baby Formula on account of it being about half the price. Hopefully the baby doesn't mind that.
So my husband is reading this book "The Shack" which is apparently, about God, and now he says he wants to be a better person. So he asks me if he's been a better person. I was like "weelll, I'm not really seeing it. Maybe you need to read the book one more time." Although I will say that he has been taking Gage to Blades games, which has been good, and doing stuff with him for ball. And he bought me a bottle of wine and said that he loves me- although I secretly think that he's just hoping that I'll drink the bottle and pass out under the stairs for a few days so I'll be off his case.
You do that one time, and they never forget.
Just kidding. Well, truth be told-I've never passed out under the stairs. Not for more than a few hours. Anyways, this whole God thing makes me nervous, but if it ends up with more wine for me, then great. If it goes much further than that- well, I don't know.
So lately I've been wanting to lose some weight. I mean, having a pooch is kind of cute and sexy when you're four months pregnant, but when the baby's nine months old, it starts getting a bit old. The problem is, as it turns out, losing weight is not easy- short of a mouth infection. The other day I took a nice long walk down by the riverbank. I could practically feel the fat melting away. And then we were driving home, and we happened to drive past Diary Queen, and it was such a beautiful day- the perfect day for an ice cream treat. And then, as I was shoveling ice cream and brownie and fudge down my throat, I felt the fat coming back again. I was feeling disapointed. But then I read somewhere that with the right pair of control top (I know- ugh) under wear, you can shed ten pounds. And I thought, now that I can do! Yes, I know that they are a bit unsightly. But then again- the way things are going for me- I could probably wear them for three to six months before my husband would ever realize. The only way he could possibly know what kind of underwear I wear is vis-a-vis the laundry- which- Ha. No worries.
Anyways. I should be going right now.