More Bulleted Blogging

If I sit down for more than three minutes I want to fall asleep. And if I'm not sitting I'm painting. Painting. Painting. And more painting. In my brilliance I decided to bust out the paint while my husband visits the Holy Land. I don't know what I was thinking. I blame my mother. My dad travels for work. A LOT. And during High School it seemed like my mom would paint every time he left town. I don't exaggerate. The living room walls in their house used to be textured, now they are smooth. My kitchen used to be green with craptastic oak cabinets, now they are not.

There is a myth perpetuated among women that there are few things worse than labor. I disagree. To illustrate my point I can name three things off the top of my head I would never want to do again. 1) Jelly Belly factory with four three and an under, 2) IKEA on a Friday afternoon with four three and under, and 3) Re-finish kitchen cabinets. See? there's lots worse. Childbirth I'd do again.

"We need to buy wings for our car so it can clap them and we can fly and find Papa."

Props to the military wives. I am a total wuss. I am ready for Him to come home and it's only been five days.

B+!?!?!!  B+?!?!?! After all of that, I get a B+ in exclusively pumping. 325/365 = 89.04 % I stopped pumping last Thursday. I don't miss it. Neither does Porkchop. In fact, that's why I stopped. The blessed boy cut his mother some slack and said, "Thanks, but no thanks." Well, he didn't actually say it, but it was implied. I give myself an A for effort.

If you had been asked to knit a hat as a gift for a very good friend's daughter who is graduating Valedictorian of her department would you go with A)Cabled Chapeau, B) Rikke Hat, or C) Gwen Slouch? No, really. When I'm done painting I'm going to sit down and knit. For a loooooong time.