Thank goodness it's Friday. I've been out of the house for a different reason every day this week, and I realized how unaccustomed I am to doing so much running around.
My household chores also showed me how seldom I have a week like this past one. Funny how those dishes won't just leap into the dishwasher themselves. And am I the only one who hates to finally make it back home after a long day and see 3 baskets of laundry waiting to be folded?
Anyway, I'm home now and still not doing chores so I guess I've made my peace with the laundry. Let's forget about all that and do some quick takes.
Sally told me she had a secret. When I asked if she would tell me, she whispered in my ear: "Mommy, I REALLY want to be a cheerleader."
Oh darling, that isn't so much a secret as a forgone conclusion. If ever there was a child fashioned of the the stuff of cheerleaders, it's Sally.
I have just started reading "The Hunger Games." I am only about 40 pages in, but so far it's good. It's definitely an interesting concept for a story with some eerie parallels to a few things that depress me about our culture.
Although I have been hearing rave reviews about the books from just about everyone (the cashier at Target, the nurses at Rob's office, my niece, my friends), I hadn't really planned on reading them. But all that goes out the window when you have a middle schooler who is desperate to read them and see the movie.
A mom's got to have the inside scoop these days.
Since I mentioned that it is depressing to me, can I just mention how increasingly bizarre and cruel I find our society to be?
Marriage not going the way you want? Dump your spouse. Better yet, just marry yourself. I'm sure your "inner-groom" will never leave his underwear on the bedroom floor.
Did you get a result that shows the baby you're carrying might be ill or less than perfect? Well, you know what you can do about that. Did you miss that window of opportunity? No worries, you can kill the baby after it's born. Babies aren't really real people after all.
And neither are old, sick people, so don't get any uppity ideas about your worth, Grandma.
How did we get here? When did we become a society that just throws everything away?
Anything that is worth having takes blood, sweat, and tears, but our culture is so averse to anything that remotely looks like suffering that we would rather kill it or, better yet, not even conceive in the first place.
Why are the parts of life that are the most sacred and redemptive seen as the very things that need to be rejected and rooted out? As a nation, we will reap the whirlwind for this.
Lord, have mercy on us.
I wanted to go to one of the Stand Up For Religious Freedom rallies being held today, but in the end I didn't go. I was too much of a wimp, I guess, to take the smaller set into the city at lunch/nap time by myself.
Did anyone go to a rally?
Continuing my trend of things that depress me (although this depresses me considerably less than abortion and infanticide), I have about had it with my ongoing saga of trying to lose weight.
I have been doing all the right things, all the things that every doctor says when you need to lose weight. I have been eating fresh, nutrient dense foods, I have been exercising every day, I have stayed away from all kinds of (delicious) goodies. I have been very strict with myself, and even enlisted Rob to make sure I wasn't cheating.
And I'm still fat. So there you go. Actually, I technically am losing weight, but I am losing it at an absolutely glacial pace.
I know, I know, I should focus on feeling healthier and being stronger, not just weight loss. But let's be real, I can't see the inside of my body, so I have no idea if my organs are happier now than they used to be.
All I can say is, they better be the happiest little organs ever, because I'm about ready to sell one of them for a chocolate cake.
In decidedly non-depressing news, this pixie will be 2 next weekend! How did that happen?
I clearly remember being hugely pregnant at her first birthday, and trying to imagine her second birthday with an almost one year old sibling in attendance. I just couldn't do it.
And thank God for that, because Mopsy and Baby are better than anything I could imagine.
I was watching the old BBC version of Pride and Prejudice while I was on the treadmill this week (Colin! Firth!) since it is a great story with nothing objectionable for the small guys who are my constant companions.
Mopsy's real name is the same as one of the prominent characters in the film, and every time someone called that character, Mopsy would turn around and look to see who was calling her. She was getting very annoyed until she finally started giving the television dirty looks. That kid is a real pip.
(and ten points to the person who can guess Mopsy's name. No prize, just ten points.)
Happy Friday, my friends!