Confession: I forgot to send my Grammy a birthday card. And I forgot to call. I am officially the worst granddaughter ever. My oversight is made worse by the fact that my brother remembered. That would be the brother whom I normally have to remind of said things. I bought a belated birthday card that says "I SUCK," and I do. The hardest part of this for me is that Grammy can no longer hear on the phone, so calling to apologize for not calling or sending a card on time isn't going to cut it. And all of this just reminds me that people we love get old.
Confession: I had cinnamon toast twice for dinner this week. Karl is traveling and my desire to prep real food kind of goes out the window. I cook for the little dude, try to clean up while he is eating, and then once he is in bed I scrounge up something for myself. Toast has been winning out this week.
Confession: I had to spell cinnamon three times before I got it right and the little red squiggly line stopped mocking me. What did we ever do before spell check? And why isn't there an autocorrect for typing on the laptop like there is on the phone. Though that might be a case of be careful what you wish for. Autocorrect gets me into enough trouble as it is.
Confession: I like sleeping alone. Really like it. Not that I don't love my husband. I do. And I appreciate a good cuddle. But when it's time to go to sleep? Get on your side of the bed and leave me the heck alone! My desire for space in the bed is why I can say with all confidence that I will never be a cosleeping mama. I understand the benefits, and we do room share for the first few months of baby's life, but I know myself and I know I won't get the sleep I need if there's a baby all up in my business all night long. It's bad enough when the little dude wanders in at 3am. I love you buddy but I don't really want to share my pillow.
Confession: I feel more self conscious when I'm trying to dress nice than I do when I'm doing school drop off in jeans and a hoodie. I made the effort this week and couldn't shake the feeling that people were wondering why I was "trying so hard." Maybe I'm just out of practice.