But I loved her post and like the idea of purging here, laying it all out there for you guys.
So here goes:
I live for their nap in the afternoon. Don't get me wrong-- we have a great time partying down from 6:00 am to 12:30 pm but man, when 12:30 rolls around and I lay them down so gingerly in their cribs I have to stop myself from doing a little heel click on my way out the door. Ahhh, the sounds of silence (which is really the sounds of their soundspa white noise maker and their lullaby music) for two to three hours in the afternoon while they rest and rejuvenate is truly magical.
I eat all of their Pirate's Booty every week. True, they get some of it (when I feel like sharing) but I eat the bulk of it. I am addicted to it. I guess I feel like it is a chip but not quite as bad for me or as high in calories. Anyway, I hoover it right up but buy it for 'the babies.'
I use my toddlers as tiny masseuses. Some days I go for these long runs by myself. On Saturday I got to run eight miles all alone and it was a thrill. My muscles were sore. So later when we were 'playing' in their room I laid on my stomach on the floor and they crawled all over me and banged into me repeatedly with their tiny little fists, laughing and howling the whole time and I felt like I was getting a mini-massage. It's free, they love it, and I'm desperate.
I eat M&Ms every day. Really. It's another addiction. And I eat them by color in the following order: brown, orange, yellow, green, blue, then red. I line them up in pairs by colors too and eat them two at a time. If there is an uneven number of colors it really throws me off, but I certainly don't discard any M&Ms over it. I really only do this with the plain ones, and these are the ones I eat the most often. I buy the little mini-packs or otherwise there could be big trouble. Does anyone else have to eat them in color order?
Every single week at work I vow to read journals and the like at home on my off days. And every single week I fail. I show back up at work on Monday and think: Oh yeah, I have a job and I see patients for a living and therefore I need to keep up with the latest research. And the cycle continues.
I love getting the mail-->the old school in-the- physical- mailbox mail. Lately I share this love with our son, who also gets a real kick out of walking with me to the mailbox (he often wakes up half an hour earlier than his sister so it's his special thing to do alone with me) and I have to be nice and let him open the mailbox door and pull everything out. Hmph.
We still have not made their video montage of when we met them, brought them home, etc. I have a million video clips and it's all too daunting. I just want someone else to do it for me.
On that note the other day my iPhone ran out of storage space for my photos. Because there are over 2,700 of them plus videos on it. Egads. I backed them up but I don't know how to/want to eliminate them from the actual phone in an easy way. I want it to magically organize into folders by date for me. Whine.
I like reality TV fashion shows. We watch Project Runway (and Allstars!) and I'm kind of secretly (not anymore) hoping for good things with that new fashion show with Jessica Simpson and Nicole Ritchie. And yes, I am still sad about Jessica and Nick. Do we really think they'll never get back together?
Many nights I am in bed at 8:45 pm. I read for twenty minutes and then fall sound asleep. It's because I get up in the middle of the night to run but still...at 8:45 I feel like an old granny when I crawl into the bed. And yet I want to do another heel click (under the covers) because bed.is.so.nice.
I am tempted to buy some Five Fingers running 'shoes'. I just read "Born to Run" and wonder if my chronic toe problems when I run more than four or five miles a day have to do with a need to be in completely different footwear. My toes are hideous. It's the understatement of the century. I'm ashamed of them and I live in a town where flip-flops are footwear of choice for 7-8 months out of the year. I have said I need to see a podiatrist for years but I've done that in the past and guess what? They pulled out several of my toenails. Um yeah. Painful and attractive, how could I go wrong? It's not a fungus. I repeat: it's not a fungus. It's trauma and now they don't grow right. Or something. They're funky and I have to put fake toenails on them. Yes, I just confessed to putting fake toenails on my toes.
We still don't eat dinner as a family and I suffer guilt over this. We feed them at 5:45 pm and I am just not ready to eat yet. We relish our dinner time, you know, where we can have stimulating conversation and the like. Oh wait--confession part two: we really eat in front of the TV. And yet...I know we should be modeling good dinner behavior, yadda yadda yadda BLAH BLAH BLAH. So sue me. They know how to use a spoon. They eat great. Our son wolfed down lima beans yesterday and our daughter inhaled (not literally) some chickpeas. So I choose to let myself off the hook on this one.
I'm addicted to Instagram. It makes photos look much better and I'm not a talented photographer to begin with, I just take a lot of pictures (see above).
OK that's enough don't you think? Confession is good for the soul. Indeed.
So are photos.
|OMG she is growing up so fast...and yes, her flip flops are huge but I wanted to |
see them on her.