I know I haven't sought solace in the comfort of your tissue paper thin pages since about 5th grade but I'm back...sans my usual neon orthodontic headgear, maroon glasses and white socks with Tevas getup.
No time for pleasantries...lets get down to the present biznas of today:
I'm guessing that fatigue levels correlate with belly size because my stomach exploded to a size 30 weeks over the weekend and I tucked myself into bed not a moment before 7 yestereve and turned old and crotchety when the fireworks started going off as they interrupted my geriatric slumber.
More grumbling and complaining:
Julia is cutting her upper canine-fangs and has the accompanying fever and enjoyable mood to prove it.
The a/c unit in our house senses when Simon is away and has been refusing to turn on when he is gone, leaving me a sweaty, ugly puddle of angry. I think Lucy and Julia are a little scared and confused by the scandalous Shamuesque imposter strutting around from the hours of 9-5 in her sausage casing of a swimsuit and ice-filled turban.
photos from the weekend:
1. flags repping America and the patron saints of Louis: Cardinals, Gateway to the West
2. fatbooth hold the booth, extra fat
and to accommodate the astronomical weight gain in the belly and all other regions...I begrudgingly put on some maternity clothes and took a photo in our clean mirrrrra:
I tried to make these weans (white jeans) less middle-aged mom (why why why am I always drawn to relaxed fit bottoms?)
(check out that baby bell and the b-a-a-a-a-d mood)
I probably made them too small and will outgrow them by tonight
hopefully the elastic panel brought her extra stretch this time around and doesn't let me down...
large genuine smile I'm sure,