We are all fine, good, well, happy, moderately healthy and otherwise peachy.
My employment status seems to be getting the better of me with regards to how much time I have left to socialize online. What does my cryptic "employment status" reference mean? You must e-mail to know grasshopper. Unless you already know in which case PLEASE don't e-mail me. I have nary a spare moment for extraneous e-mail. Not that I don't love you, I REALLY do. But I don't love e-mail right now. Even e-mail that IS relevant.
Why am I here?
Oh yes, mostly to complain about my age. Now I know there are those of you reading this who scoff at my complaints regarding my early 30 something age. However, bare with me if you would be so kind.
I have recently ended nearly every day with a blinding headache and the subsequent popping of much ibuprofen. Not really my favorite way to spend my evenings, I admit.
Jesse, in his husbandly wisdom, suspected the issue might be my vision coupled with the time spent in front of the computer. Actually, I think Rachael is the one to blame for this turn of events. She marched in here on some holiday or birthday or maybe it was super bowl Sunday, I don't recall, and sorrowfully announced her recent prescribing of reading glasses due to eye strain. She then pulled out the most ADORABLE pair of uber chic reading glasses and applied them to her equally darling little face.
mutter grumble
Despite my numerous vocal protests Jesse escorted me to an optometrist who listened to my description of a typical work day, furrowed his eyebrows, which I can only assume rest above his perfectly functional lenses, and informed me that I absolutely need reading glasses.
grumble
Liz has requested a picture and being the cooperative, easy going person I am, I humbly acquiesce.
WHAT? That's really all you need to see, you get the idea.
Since we are the topic, sort of, of age, let's discuss the fact that this past weekend I decided to show my boys how to hang by their knees from the jungle gym.
Oh my dear sweet Almighty God in heaven.
That's really all there is to say. I spent probably better than 40% of my waking hours between the age of 6 and 12 hanging upside down from metal bars on playgrounds.
Apparently you can never go back. But, in case you are wondering, you can suffer through two completely sleepless nights in total agony because you TRIED to go back. At least I made an effort, right? RIGHT?
But enough about me!
Nana is at her sewing machine again and Anna will reap the spoils as usual. This dress fit Anna, who has decided to grow 8 inches in the last 10 minutes, for about 32 seconds. But I think it looks ADORABLE with jeans.
And to cap off a completely random and rambling post, pics of how a really big pad of paper and a few markers can very effectively kill off an afternoon when mommy has TONS of work to do and needs her kids happily engaged in other than crawling all over her.
Love to all!
