I Know, I Know.

It's been a week since I've given all you people more reason to laugh at me. To shake your heads and wonder why I'm not clinically insane yet, given the children I have and general life I lead. Sorry. It's just been a week of the usual monotony, the same struggles and showdowns. Getting up at 5:45 and not going to bed until 10:30 because I need just a couple more minutes of alone time. Trying not to crush Nora with my gigantic body as I lay on her to get her to stay still for more than .02 seconds so I can change her diaper. You know. The usual.

Here's fun, though. Tate has started calling me Melissa. And it's PISSING ME OFF. All I hear now is "What are you doing, Melissa? Can I have some milk, Melissa? STOP IT, MELISSA! MELISSA! GET OVER HERE AND GET ME SOME SPONGEBOB MAC AND CHEESE, NOW!" I tend to ignore the last two types of requests. I fetch Spongebob for no one, least of all a 2 year old who needs to learn that his mother is the person most deserving of respect and utter adoration in his life. I mean, hello, I am pretty awesome.

Nora is...clingy. I know it's just because of the aforementioned awesomeness of me, but hello. I would like to be able to walk more than 2 feet before falling over because there is a little body wedged in between my legs with a death grip on each shin. If I don't pick her up right away because I'm doing something stupid like, oh, cooking dinner (I've heard somewhere you shouldn't have little kids around open ovens when they're at 450 degrees. I might be making that up, though) or getting dressed (ever try to put a pair of jeans on when holding on to a little person who's trying to climb into your mouth? It's not as easy as you'd think. Especially when the jeans are fresh out of the dryer and you gotta do the jump-up-and-down-squat-and-try-and-tuck-your-muffin-top-into-the-waistband-thing).

I have been going to the gym regularly, though. I'm one of those people who will go to the gym for an hour, and then rush home and hop on the scale. Then I will see that I did not magically lose 10 lbs in that hour and go downstairs and break open a bag of Lay's to soothe my chunkified self. I'm getting better at not doing that, though.

So, really, not a whole lot going on. Sorry for the boring blog entry, but I got tired of people whining and grumbling and pathetically pleading with me. I mean, have a little self-respect, people. It's just lately I haven't been feeling the creative juices sloshing around in me all that much. I try to think of what to write and it almost feels like a homework assignment or something. And anyone who knew me when I was in school knows I did not like homework and therefore didn't really...do it.

But fear not. The kids are getting their pictures taken tomorrow and you know that experience is going to most likely be chock-full of opportunities for you to laugh at me. I will strive to not let you down.