You know I do enjoy a good confessional time, and I'm in the mood for distraction today.
What better way to goof off on a Friday than by ridding ourselves of silly guilt? I'll show you mine, you show me yours, okay?
1. From the very first trailer I saw for the film version of Les Miserables, I swore I would be in a theater seat, taking it in in all of its tragic glory the moment it was released.
And then it was released and my Facebook feed dissolved into a tearful, blubbering mess over it. I'm no stranger to the story, and I know it's quite emotional. Heck, I can't hear any version of Do You Hear The People Sing without tearing up a little bit, and that's not the most heart-stirring song of the production by a long shot.
So in a stunning move of self-awareness (usually not my strong point), I decided that I - in my delicate condition - had no business going to a theater and bawling loudly into my hands, subjecting those around me to new levels of discomfort and irritation.
I know that I get overly emotionally invested in stories and characters. It's like I have no empathy filter. I can't NOT put myself into the story. You would think I might have outgrown this, but it actually seems to be getting worse with age. For example, Kyle and I watched Dexter for a while, right until the end of Season 5 with THE TERRIBLE THING THEY DID TO RITA. Y'all, I laid on our living room floor and sobbed like a maniac after that episode.
So. I'll be waiting for the DVD version of Les Mis so I can watch and emote in the privacy of my own home.
2. Last Sunday, we had Dacey's birthday party here at our house. She had wanted to do a Chuck E Cheese style Big Thing, but I was unsure of what kind of condition I would be in by late January. We gently persuaded her that a party at home could still be fun.
We went the very VERY simple route with cake, ice cream, a pinata, presents, and then playtime in the backyard. It was the simplest party ever. As her guests left flush-faced and hands full of crappy birthday-n-a-box favors, I was actually starting to feel like maybe it wasn't as lame as it seemed. Maybe the simple route IS the most fun.
Yep, I was feeling pretty good about it all until yesterday afternoon when out of the blue Dacey said matter-of-factly: "Well, I guess my 8th birthday was pretty much the worst one." Me: "Um. Why?" Dacey: "We didn't really DO anything."
Awesome.
Related: My 8th birthday really WAS the worst one ever. My parents and I planned a big pool party at the community swimming pool in our little town. One guest showed up. ONE. Even my parents were disappointed, I could tell. womp womp
Maybe we'll just make it family tradition that 8th birthday parties are the lamest ones of all.
3. I've been no stranger to Dr. Pepper this pregnancy, a carbonated beverage the likes of which I can barely tolerate in my non-pregnant state of being.
4. Up until very recently, I've been pathologically obsessed with fresh, clean pajamas every night for everyone in this house. In an effort to cut back on the laundry burden, I've been refolding the pj's and putting them back in drawers for a second wearing.
I justify this because I figure they go on clean bodies before bed and experience very little to make them actually dirty in the hours between bedtime and get-ready-for-school time. I have to be honest, though - it still makes me shudder.
5. Speaking of bedtime, the bed linens in our house have not been washed in three weeks. Maybe four. Yeah. It's probably four. *gag*
6. Sometime around Cyber Monday-ish last, Kyle found a great deal and bought me a MacBook Pro. I am incredibly, ridiculously spoiled. I confess that fully. But what's even worse is that I don't even know how to REALLY use the beautiful thing. Is there a MacBook for Beginners course somewhere I could take? I'm totally serious. I feel awful that I have this amazing machine and I'm still using it like the most basic of PCs.
7. Okay. This last one is a visual and I just want to prepare you for the fact that it may be the worst thing you've ever seen on the internet. EVER. Or at the very, very least, it's the worst thing you will see on the internet TODAY.
I keep complaining about my feet being so swollen and so hurt-y, but I just don't think you can fully grasp the situation without a visual. I confess to you that when I wake up in the morning, my feet look like THIS:
Can you even imagine the horror show that they are by bedtime? And CLEARLY I need a pedicure intervention, but I am seriously too embarrassed to take this situation to the professionals. Truth.
Apologies in advance for any appetites I've just ruined or any baby fevers I've just found remedy for.
SO.
Those are my confessions this first of February. What do you feel the need to confess? No judgies allowed!
