Note To Self

You aren't 20 anymore. In fact, you are 40 and have five kids. You can't stay out until after 1 am and expect to function the next day. I'd like to to thank Danny for the awesome champagne, the Old 97's for a show that lasted till 1 and Baby Z for waking up throughout the night. Then there is No David who decided we all needed to wake up at 6:20 this morning. I might be finally feeling my age.

Note to Self

Before you plan a date night with your husband, make sure you fit into something besides yoga pants and a "I'm a pepper" t-shirt.

I am seriously bummed, eight weeks in and I can't fit into a thing. I plan to lose the rest of the baby weight, so I really have no desire to buy something new. But since it's winter, I need jeans and such. I have been wearing the same black preg pants since Baby Z arrived.

The sad thing is that I thought I was looking decent, but now I know how far I really need to go. And while I'm not one of those self-loathing women who hate themselves because they get fat, I am one of those women who likes to be thin. With my boobs, I have to be a small size to look small. Simple fact of life.

So off we go, Lance looking hip, me looking like I'm still pregnant.

Note To Self

I am forty years old. I don't remember much about my parents turning forty except my dad giving my mom a bouquet that had a black balloon in it. Little did their generation know that my generation would have none of that! No "Over the Kill" crap for us. Please, we're still having kids in my generation. So here I am: FORTY. And mostly, I feel great. My life isn't perfect, but it's more than I ever dreamed it would be. I am married to an amazing man who loves me more than anyone ever could, who loves to spend time with me over any friends, who has given me four wonderful boys and is open to more, who prays with me, goes to church, and is always trying to find ways to make me smile. That alone is reason to be happy, but I have even more reasons to love my life. Especially in the four smiles I see daily. Each child freely tells me how much they love me! I have smart, opinionated, handsome boys who bring me so much happiness. I have great parents who love me dearly, and mostly, keep their opinions to themselves about my choices in life. I have a wonderful brother who always listens when I need it. And I have several really good friends. Next week we are taking a trip with our best friends to celebrate this milestone for three out of four of us. Life doesn't get much better than this. I hope I always remember and appreciate all I have.

OMG!!!

Really, this post should be another Note To Self because I know better.

Paul is in town because one of our high school friends is turning 40. The party was family friendly so I planned on everyone attending. Then the Baby Hulk got sick. He started puking Tuesday night and has puked once a day since then. And yes, we have been going slow on gatorade and dry toast. Lance left the show early yesterday because he felt bad. By the time I left to get Paul at the airport last night, he had puked his guts out. Lance was pretty bummed because I quarantined him to the bedroom with the Hulk and he wouldn't be able to go to the party with us. You know, the surprise party which was the purpose of this short trip for Paul.

Kobra showed a small sign this morning that he might have caught the virus, but I shrugged it off. Maybe not shrugged it off, I did ask Paul if we should leave him home. We decided that he was fine. After driving forty-five minutes and with two minutes to go, Kobra puked all over himself and the carseat. There we were in the driveway cleaning him off, hoping the birthday girl didn't arrive.

I left Paul and Goose at the party and made the trek back into the city while Kobra continued to puke. I got home, Lance took him and washed him off while I attempted to clean the carseat. What fun. Did I mention that it's humid in Houston now? Finally, things were settled at home and I drove back out to the party. Although Lance and Baby Hulk were both feeling better, I felt so bad leaving three sick boys behind. But I had to pick up Paul. Thankfully, the baby slept while we were gone. After sitting in traffic, which made my trip more than an hour, I finally got there and was ready to enjoy myself. I figured I'd visit for a bit, then we'd come home and get ready for our dinner.

Five minutes before we were leaving, Goose told me he didn't feel well. He then proceeded to puke all over me, the leather couch, and oriental rug. It was nonstop vomit. In order to save the beautiful furniture, I tried to "catch" it all in my dress. (I have three dresses from Nordstroms, this was one of them.) There was literally a pool of vomit in my dress. It was so bad, I had to take a shower at the party. As did Goose.

Here is the deal. I barely know the people who hosted the party, as in I just met the wife for the first time today. The husband is the brother of the birthday girl, a high school friend I haven't seen in fifteen years! It was "you're Nikki, right?" These two were so gracious to me and my Goose. I felt so bad for Goose, of course, but I was horrified at the thought of their house being contaminated by our virus and their stuff ruined.

After our shower, our hostess gave us some clothes to wear. Goose couldn't comprehend wearing clothes that were too big and asked for a different pair of shorts. I am not lying. The nerve of that kid, right?

I'm home now and everyone is clean (for the time being). I am trying to spray and wipe down everything again, hoping that I'll get my turn with the virus tomorrow as opposed to during the week and praying oh so hard that Paul doesn't catch our virus and take it with him to Chicago.

You think these people want their clothes back? I am guessing they never want to see or hear from us again!

Note to Self

When your laundry comes out with purple markings all over the clothes, check out the dryer before continuing with four more loads. We now have purple on ALL our clothes, not just the first load. The culprit seems to be a purple crayon lodged into the crevice of the dryer. Any ideas on how to get this cleaned before ruining the rest of our clothes?