I'm old. Much to old to indulge in not one but two glasses of wine and stay up past my bedtime. As much fun as I had talking things deep and frivolous with my good friend, I'm paying for it this Friday.
Note to self: one glass of wine, in bed by 10, avoid an annoying mini-hangover and persistent case of the yawns the next day.
Baby toys are a scam. You see, babies don't care about toys. Mister A flat out refused to entertain me by playing with the $15 Playskool toy we picked up at the store yesterday. He scooted across the room for something way cooler. A diaper box. He's also mighty fond of the following items.
Note to self: stop buying baby toys. Continue buying paper bags, water bowls, and magazines.
Realization #3, the most important of all:
It feels oh-so-good to finally have a resolution to the real estate related stress I've been deliberately vague about these past few days. I'll just say this: the sign is out of the yard, we're staying put, and I'm breathing like a normal person again (in, out, in). I'm so much more appreciative of what we have now that I've survived three panicky days thinking we may be attacked or forced into an unwanted decision over a bunch of nonsense. Yes, J's commute still bites. But this is home and there's no home we'd rather call ours. I've never been happier to hear the little creak midway up the stairs, never felt more comforted by the way the morning sun warms the floor in A's room, never wanted more to kiss the front door upon arriving home for being MINE, all MINE. (Well, and J's too.)
Note to self: you look crazy kissing your front door like that.