First of all, just let me justify my filthy kitchen. Let's be honest - there's no justification. Let me just explain.
So in the first weeks - scratch that - months of pregnancy, I pretty much allowed my apartment to decay into a state of ruin. You never could tell how many people lived here, maybe a small village of miscreants, maybe a family of raccoons. It was bad. But I truly couldn't bring myself to care. Because I was busy dying you see. But then my doctor was all, "You're chubby. Stop eating good food," and I seriously felt better overnight. Since then I've been cleaning and organizing and actually hanging things on walls. It's beginning to look like home, and this little old apartment is strangely feeling kind of warm and fuzzy. And I like it. I even do my dishes on a daily basis. Not just when the raccoons start eating the leftovers.
But then the weekend hits. And we have swimming lessons (and the fat nap I need after swimming lessons) and errands and playing and hiking (i.e., walking slowly down the street) and "Daddy's home!" and things seriously fall apart. I mean SERIOUSLY. So I wait for Monday to start all over again and get things in order. Please note that it's 2:30 p.m., and I'm still waiting to get things in order. Hmmm. Interesting.
Anyhow, I've been snitching some trail mix for a couple weeks now. I figure one M&M to fifty bazillion {gross} peanuts is a good balance. And it's really not that good so I truthfully don't eat much. Just a small handful here and there when I have the sudden urge to EAT A CUPCAKE. (Six more weeks! Just six!) This morning, I left the opened bag on the {filthy raccoon habitat} counter. And when I walked in, I saw this little munchkin, blanket wrapped around her head - so as to hide, of course - picking the dang M&Ms out of the bag. Girl has my blood. That chocolate in the veins, gotta have it now, can sniff chocolate out of anything kind of blood.
And I say: HOORAY. Enjoy that chocolate my girl. Because it's seriously some of life's best offerings.
So in the first weeks - scratch that - months of pregnancy, I pretty much allowed my apartment to decay into a state of ruin. You never could tell how many people lived here, maybe a small village of miscreants, maybe a family of raccoons. It was bad. But I truly couldn't bring myself to care. Because I was busy dying you see. But then my doctor was all, "You're chubby. Stop eating good food," and I seriously felt better overnight. Since then I've been cleaning and organizing and actually hanging things on walls. It's beginning to look like home, and this little old apartment is strangely feeling kind of warm and fuzzy. And I like it. I even do my dishes on a daily basis. Not just when the raccoons start eating the leftovers.
But then the weekend hits. And we have swimming lessons (and the fat nap I need after swimming lessons) and errands and playing and hiking (i.e., walking slowly down the street) and "Daddy's home!" and things seriously fall apart. I mean SERIOUSLY. So I wait for Monday to start all over again and get things in order. Please note that it's 2:30 p.m., and I'm still waiting to get things in order. Hmmm. Interesting.
Anyhow, I've been snitching some trail mix for a couple weeks now. I figure one M&M to fifty bazillion {gross} peanuts is a good balance. And it's really not that good so I truthfully don't eat much. Just a small handful here and there when I have the sudden urge to EAT A CUPCAKE. (Six more weeks! Just six!) This morning, I left the opened bag on the {filthy raccoon habitat} counter. And when I walked in, I saw this little munchkin, blanket wrapped around her head - so as to hide, of course - picking the dang M&Ms out of the bag. Girl has my blood. That chocolate in the veins, gotta have it now, can sniff chocolate out of anything kind of blood.
And I say: HOORAY. Enjoy that chocolate my girl. Because it's seriously some of life's best offerings.
No comments:
Post a Comment