I'm rusty. I can't remember how people work 8 hours a day, commute, cook dinner, mother two children AND have a clean house. It doesn't help that I've started running again. I figured out I can squeeze a run in between the time the kids go to bed and the gym closes. So far, my goal of running 4 days a week is working. And I'm already up to 4 miles at 8:15 minute pace! Maybe that's why the house is a mess...I, without hesitation, choose running over cleaning! But I'm such a happier person when I'm running, so I think it's for everyone's benefit....
On a different note, I got to have a girls' night out the other day. It was unexpected and fantastic. After just one truffle-tini, I was ready to hit the dance floor. So we did!
Now, I don't have many talents BUT I am very talented at looking like a fool and not caring one single bit! So we strutted onto that empty dance floor and got the party started. People should pay me to go around to different clubs and warm up the dance floors. Everyone will want to dance next to me because, in comparison, I can make anyone look good. Even the awkward old man dancing like a diva all by himself.
I felt like such a mom. There I was in my jeans, ratty Toms, and conservative top, doing the Duck Lips and jumpimg in the air. Meanwhile, the other girls were wearing mini skirts and grinding low on their awkward-looking boyfriends. Hah! Guys actually DANCING! I had a strong urge to warn those women to enjoy the dancing as much as possible, because inevitably, over the years, every man develops a severe dancing allergy. I managed to contain myself, however.
I got home just as the clock struck midnight- and didn't turn into a pumpkin. My exhausted self drifted to sleep right away. Then, at 2am, I was rudely awaken by a crabby Ryan. He was stuffy and congested and not a happy camper. I gave him a bottle and tucked him into bed next to me.
At 5am, I woke up to the sound of Darth Vader breathing into my ear. At first I thought my erotic Spiderman dreams were being replaced by erotic Star Wars dream (just my luck, my dreams WOULD be about Darth Vader rather than Han Solo...). But nope, it was just Ryan. Poor guy was having such a hard time. He started fussing and crying but he was too uncomfortable to sleep. I picked him up and held him against my chest. He cried pathetic little cries before falling asleep. Being vertical must have helped his congestion.
Each time I tried to put Ryan back down or even lay with him on my chest, he woke up miserable again. So I spent from 5 to 6 walking him around the room so that he could sleep. I finally took him out into the living room and sat down with him propped up against my shoulder. Just as I was finally falling asleep, Jacob popped out of his room, unusually early. He immediately asked for breakfast, then juice, then a popsicle, and then to watch TV. After I complied with some of those requests, it took me a full 3 minutes before I realized I had Jacob watching the Spanish Channel.
By then, I had completely given up on trying to go back to sleep. Instead, I focused on making breakfast burritos- with homemade tortillas, of course!
I was so exhausted all day; I was a walking mummy. Funny how that works when you become a mom. You have an awesome girls' night out and enjoy a drink or two. Before you leave the bar, you pound shots of WATER. And the next day, while you have all the symptoms of a hangover, those symptoms are merely child-inflicted rather than alcohol-induced. And they don't even come with a post-party high or the benefit of not remembering how much of a fool you made of yourself on the dance floor.
Tired though I was, we still enjoyed the 90+ degree weather.
It looks like Ryan is doing the boogie here. LOVE IT!