If you are not reading or have not read The Hunger Games series, I suggest you stop whatever it is you are doing right this minute and download it to your Kindle or go out and buy it. Now. Do it.
Normally, I’m not into telling people what to do. I mean, except Husband but he doesn’t listen so it doesn’t really count. But, I’m telling you right now that this series is a must. Yes I’m saying must. As in you must read it. Go.
Even if you eat over half of a half gallon in less than 24 hours. Oh pregnancy.
Since I got pregnant, I had come to the conclusion that the reason I’m not as starved during this go round is because I had some extra pounds hanging around after last pregnancy. So, Romulus was basically just living off the fat I already had instead of wanting to be fed new stuff every day.
Then, last week happened wherein I began to have the starving feelings. Even after I ate a normal amount. It wasn’t exactly like I felt with BG but close. Tired, dizzy and shaky? Check, check, check. Easily annoyed, crabby and a general feeling of wanting to punch people? Yep. Interesting.
New conclusion: Romulus is now growing exponentially thus wanting more than I have at any given moment. Add to that sinus issues causing me to be tired and cranky and the 273 million emotions flowing through this heart and mind every second that I’m alive, and you have something close to a basketcase who needed to have some ice cream okay?
Today, the beginning of this new week, I’ve decided to give myself a break. Yes, I’ve had some blue cheese. Yes, I’ve had some feta cheese. Yes, I’ve had some full caff coffee. And yes, I ate a loooooooooooooot of ice cream in an 18 hour span of time. But…BUT, it’s okay.
I’m allowed to be human. I’m allowed to be less than perfect. I’m allowed to cry about my fears and hopes and worries and excitement of having two kids. I’m allowed to cry about the trailer for The Hunger Games because deep down, underneath the excitement about watching a fake movie, I am worried that BG will never get enough time with us when we have Romulus. I’m allowed to cry at the season finale of Game of Thrones because Romulus will never get as much time with us as BG did. And I’m allowed to look at my sweet boy when he smiles at me and cry because there is just no stopping it. This train is on its way to Crazytown and I’m the conductor.
But, I’ve given myself a hug about it and reminded myself that Crazytown isn’t that bad of a place to live. You guys are welcome to come visit any time.
Sometimes one’s vision is a smidge different from another’s. Case in point, Husband and me. I know, typical.
When I painted BG’s soon to be room to look like the ocean and the sky, I thought it was really cute and darling. Until I saw Husband’s reaction. It wasn’t disappointment as much as hope that we could add…something. A little oomph. Some texture maybe?
I just want it to look more like the ocean.
Oh well in that case. Considering neither of us have much skill at painting, other than just plain paint on walls, creating an actual ocean was going to be a challenge. Husband started by mixing a few colors of paint and swooping them on the wall. About three seconds after he started, something like a tantrum happened and he was done. I’m still now sure how it all went down. All I know is that I took over, and now we have this:
Here’s another shot where you can see the difference between the plain paint that wasn’t good enough for Husband didn’t look as oceany. I must admit, it looks better. Great, even!
Oh Thursday. Why do you feel my head with a million thoughts. Like…why do I pay a higher percentage of taxes than Mitt Romney? Or any rich person for that matter? Is that really fair? No. To some people, giving a third of their income to the gov means they can’t eat on certain days. To others, it means they can’t eat caviar every day of the week. Except that they still could. Just sayin’.
Or, does anyone despise Tom Brady as much as I do? I mean, he’s such a girly-man. Too girly-manish to play football, imo. And too girly-manish for me to think he’s hot. He’s not hard to look at, no, but I feel like he needs a bruise or two. Or maybe just not a girl’s face. Or hair.
And, WTF Heidi and Seal?
Oh and Tim Gunn. No sex in 29 years? Damn son. Explains a lot. Not that he’s any less of a person, as he said, but uptight much? Good lawd.
Remember this? Well, now it has turned into this:
Such a nice sight in this sea of dreariness that has been January.
There are lots of other buds just waiting to burst open with this glorious redness. But only a few at a time. Gotta keep ‘em wanting more. I like your style Miss Camellia. Loves it.
