Today was a day that should have killed me. As evidenced by my blogging, I so killed the day instead. We were up at 5:45, out the door at 7:30 and into VBS-land by 8. I am in the nursery for the entire week, nursing Claire and commenting on the other children. (There's not a whole lot I can contribute with a 7-week old attached to me, so I point at children who stick things in their mouths and sniff out poopy diapers as they toddle past.)
We were out of there at about 11:45 and then headed over to the House of T where Charlotte ran an errand and I hung out with 5 little girls. She was back within a couple of hours, but we stuck around until 4, since none of us really had anything to do and we had a bunch of kids who'd missed naps - nobody likes to be alone with a grumpy toddler. Best to just let them all wail in unison.
We got home and the girls ran around while I cleaned up the house - Andrew is out tonight at a profession-specific dinner with his fraternity of legal eagles, so I had big plans to watch a movie and eat peanut butter cookies. I put the girls in bed right on time and I'm STILL looking for the movie I was anticipating so much.
You need to know that I generally never lose things. When I do, I have this fit of self-examination/loathing and can't function until the entire house has been set right and I can confirm that the missing item is completely and utterly never coming back. Enter white Fossil watch. My Christmas gift from Andrew. Gone. Disappeared into the abyss of family life. In my pre-baby nesting, that puppy was outta here and I know for a fact that the likelihood of finding it after nesting is about .0001%. The Netflix movie is in a big red envelope. It sticks out like a sore thumb, and it's just not here. My only hope is that it might possibly be in Andrew's car. Why on earth it would be there, I have no idea. (As I type this I also cannot find my remote. But that seems to be a trend. I won't mention that I was also in a panic over my "missing" Nikon, which turned out to be not-so-missing. I'm assuming that the thought of losing something just sets my entire world on a weird tilt and I panic over everything. Remotes are always lost. I really don't count them.) Oh, anyway. The movie is seriously NOT HERE. Cry, cry, cry. Of course, my mother put it into perspective when she mentioned that only minutes before, I thought that my Nikon was missing and that it would be far more expensive to replace that than my $14 netflix DVD.
Okay, well, I'm done with this. Andrew is home from his golf club dinner party event thing.
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