the latest and greatest from the confessional around here ... and linking up with my go-to hot mess gal while I'm at it.
I did four minutes of one of my favorite workout DVDs two days ago before someone started hollering about something VERY URGENT. Four minutes and I'm still sore.
Simon had to work both Saturday and Sunday night last weekend and so I attempted to parent-pressure Julia into sleeping in my bed thinking she might ease my paranoia because I'm 30 and she's 3. But, sadly, not all the bribes in the world could convince her to leave her room.
Our oven has been broken since before Phoebe was born. The stove works fine but the only time this Betty Crocker misses it is when she wants to make cookies. Specifically these.
Apparently we didn't do a very thorough job of explaining to Sebastian that pregnancy eventually produces a baby and that baby = now two month old Phoebe because today he gave me a long up-down, wrinkled his brow, and asked, "hey! where'd that baby in your tummy go?!"
As we were walking out of Costco last week and the time came to show the gentleman at the exit our receipt, I opened my wallet and grabbed the longest receipt I could find. I breathed a sigh of relief because we'd made it through the store and no one was crying or whining and I hadn't even lost my receipt!! And then the kind sir looked at the receipt, handed it back, and burst my bubble with, "Uh, I'm afraid this is actually for Dunkin Donuts ..... "