The tightness in my chest is finally loosening up. That plus a cough…you know. Blech. I keep picturing the little green guy from the Mucinex commercials.
So as I lie here in bed with what sounds like a dang death rattle, I figured I’d tap out another entry.
I cannot stop thinking about Brittani Boren Leach
I cannot stop thinking about how her arms must feel so empty and how she was still nursing her sweet baby boy.
I cannot stop checking on Amelia. I know I’m going to wake her up and, MAN ALIVE, that girl is a bear if you wake her up and she’s not ready, but I just want to snuggle her.
I can’t stop thinking about Meri. Some of you guys might remember her. The sweetest woman you ever did meet. 😊 I always think of her when I watch Mary Poppins and at Christmas time. ::giggling madly::
I can’t stop thinking about Patricia and how I blew her off. It was a million years ago, but I still think about her. I didn’t mean to stop talking to her. I just couldn’t anymore. You know when you feel so low you just can’t put anyone else’s crap on your shoulders or feel anyone else’s pain in your heart? That’s what it was. I just couldn’t. I wish I could tell her, but I think too much time has passed. And I think I’m okay with that. I think. Maybe. Not really. (She’s on here. I looked her up. Yeah. Apparently I’m a stalker now. She’s not written in yearrrrrs.)
I can’t stop thinking about my grandma at Christmas when she argued with me about how many kettles I have. (Yes, you read that right.) It was an innocent enough conversation where I told her I tried to make Chex Mix again and it was soggy…again. She told me to use the biggest kettle I have and I said I have a 4qt one. Then she told me to split it between two, and I told her I have my big Dutch oven and one small kettle for cooking Mac n cheese. And it just went crazy. I don’t like stuff. I don’t need more than two kettles. She’s got 50 of them. No hyperbole! The woman can barely cook for herself and she’s drowning in crap that she just can’t part with and she can’t comprehend how I can live without closets full of crap that I never use. Ugh. I should have just let it go. But I didn’t. I think she just likes to pick fights. The woman is 77…78 years old and I swear sometimes she’s a Mean Girl. That sounds terrible, but it’s true.
(That thing about my grandma has been bugging me since Christmas Day. It feels good to get it out.)
I can’t stop thinking about having another baby. I’ll be 37 this summer. There are 13 years between Kylie and Amelia. My ovaries don’t have 13 more years left in them.
I want just one more. No gender reveal. I want a surprise. I want maternity photos. I want to try breast feeding again. I want to have 2 close together. I don’t want Amelia to be alone after Kylie graduates from high school and starts her adult life.
And now I can’t stop thinking about how in less than 5 short years, Kylie will be 18. Amelia is going to be 2 next month. It’s going by too fast.
It’s all going by too fast. Too fast.
Side note: If Amelia gets over her cold by Wednesday, we’re going to start potty training on Thursday. Pray for me. 😂 💩
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