Huminahumina

This week has flown by.  Maybe slightly due to the sick day I took slap in the middle of it where I got to sleep away *ahhhh* the sickness for almost 5 hours straight.  With no children.  Just me, four pillows, the dogs and Ellen DeGeneres.  And the toilet.  And DVR.  Love that thing.  The DVR, I mean.  Not the toilet.  Though I bet I’d love that too if I didn’t have one.  The whole don’t miss your water ’til the well runs dry thing……….

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Chris has been a good boy this week.  He’s managed to get his BS down to 103 which makes me SO PROUD.  BS meaning blood sugar, not his bullshit.  That remains intact.  He’s been watching his carb intake and sugar consumption, etc., etc.  Might spark the inclination to join me on my weight loss adventure.  I even joined the 50 Million Pound Challenge back on June one.  (I like to say that out loud in my best Bruce Buffer voice.  THE FIFTEEEEEEEEE MIIILLLLLIOONNNNNNNNNN POOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUNNNNNNND CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENGE!”)  I’m a bonafide challenger!  Am a team leader and everything.  Gold star for me!  6 pounds down!  Only 49,999,994 to go!  Whoop!

Guess what my team name is?

HotPants!

Look me up!  Join!  Puke with me!  Whoop!

BTW, I emailed invitations to all my friends to join my team and have had a whopping ZERO responses!  I hear ya, Soldiers!  Way to support your big, fat friend!

I’ve had to find my moral and emotional support from my Weight Watchers Points Calculator.  You should see me in the fast food restaurants, haunting the nutritional information poster that’s located in the darkest, weirdest corner in the place.  I look like Poindexter over there with my little calculator, squinting at the poster to try to discerne whether it’s the Big Mac or the Mandarin Salad that has 5,430 calories.  And where’s the fiber?  THE FIBER, PEOPLE!!!!!  Yes, I would love to have that big, juicy, greasy, three-tiered cheeseburger with a pound of your mouthwatering fries and a tall chocolate shake, thankyouforasking.  But I’ll settle for that salad-sans-flavor-add-diarrhea over there and SOME OF THE CARDBOARD BOX THAT IT CAME IN TO AID IN MY CONSUMPTION OF FIBER!

With ranch, please.

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My beautiful little MereBear is engulfed in the litany of The Terrible Twos.  Complete with foot-stomping, shrieking-so-Linda-our-next-door-neighbor-can-hear-it-through-eight-walls-and-a-garage and PLENTY of alligator tears.  And Mama-The-Naive (that’s me) threw out the suggestion to Chris that “maybe we should try to potty-train her and get rid of the Binkies.  She’s approaching two-and-a-half, after all and…….”  I was cut off by one of those foot-stomping episodes again.  Ok, Boog!  Keep the Binky, forcriminiessakes.  Pee in the front yard for all I care!  I’m going back to work to get my earplugs! Meredith Bath

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seriously, though, I just love the absolute crap outta that kid.

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Madelynn, thank Jesus, is in a much more pleasant stage right now.  She found her voice, which prompts the coos and shrieks and laughter that melt my heart away.  She sucks her fist in-cess-ant-ly, cascading strings of drool from nose to knees.  We go through bibs faster than diapers in one day, but I never mind.  Except for when I try to shower her with kisses.  Then she sends the strings of drool from MY nose to MY knees.  Ewwww.  I know, I know.  She’s mine.  Her spit is my spit.  Except, it’s not.  And……..ewwww.  But, whatever.Madelynn Feather

Courtesy of Alison Fill Photography

I just love the absolute crap outta that kid.

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 Am fitting in some retail therapy with the Girls (my posse, not my spawn) this weekend.  Shopping for nursery stuff with SB and Amy.  SB, by the way, has a real name.  It’s Jen.  And she’s not actually SB at the moment.  She’s FAT!  Bru-ha-ha!  OK, not really fat.  Just pregnant.  As close to fat as she’ll probably ever come.  Hussy.

Back on track now:  maybe I’ll try for a pair of jeans that actually fit right now, given that my maternity pants are (YAY!) too big, but my skinny jeans are……..well…….skinny jeans.  I need some in-betweeny jeans.  Or a handbag.  Boy, that’s a toss-up.  Hmmmm.  Maybe I’ll rob a bank and buy both.

‘Tis all for now, faithful readers!

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