Anyway, the whole point to that pointless tale is that I'm pretty amazed at how fast I can still move my 495 pounds of awesomeness.
And I have another confession. The Turkey has been disrespected. I know. After the hard time I gave Monica, after all my turkey righteousness, I just couldn't hold out. It started with taking down the fall decorations today. Mister and I leave Monday for OC, and I wanted to get the fall things packed away before our trip. But the problem was, after the golden leaves and jack o' lanterns came down, it looked kind of sterile in here. Lots and lots of boring builder beige. (Because my husband is allergic to colors, that's why our house is 90% builder beige after 3 years of inhabitance.) So I went pawing through the Christmas bins. Just to look. Take inventory. And I'll be damned if I didn't come to and find myself, stroller and A in tow, elbowing my way through the appliqued sweatshirt wearing mobs in the glittery aisles of Hobby Lobby. Candles and sparkly twigs and wooden trees and I don't even know what else. It was all 50% off, and truth be told, I got a little decor drunk and just bought one of EVERYTHING before those crazy old snowman sweatshirted ladies got it ALL. You have to love A's 'roll with my crazy mom as per usual' attitude. He just hung out in his stroller, munching on Cheerios from his snack cup, occasionally throwing out a helpful "GAH! GAH! GAH!" when he spied something particularly fabulous. Like a flourescant light fixture on the ceiling or some glitter on his finger.
So, Turkey, I apologize. And I ask your forgiveness in advance for tomorrow, when I'll
put up our tree and outside lights boss around J while he puts up our tree and outside lights. But I assure you, Turkey, I'll still enjoy every bite of you on Thursday. You and your BFF, the GBC (thanks, Nikki, for that superb acronym. For those who aren't genius like The Little One, that means Green Bean Casserole.)
One more random note about our day. This one's a tip for the non-moms in my reading audience. So....probably for nobody, but I already started, so I'm going to say it anyway. When you're at a packed shopping center during Christmas shopping season and set out to stalk a shopper leaving the building to snag that shopper's parking spot, maybe DON'T pick the impregnated lady with the stroller and the gazillion Hobby Lobby bags. It's not even like I had a coveted front row parking spot, it was a mediocre spot at best, and just six or seven cars beyond my spot were about ten open spots. But still, this crazy lady in a Ford crept along on my heels, slamming on her brakes and slapping on the blinker when she saw the tail lights of my car blink as I hit the keyfob to unlock. Seriously, lady? This is a five minute process, minimum. No, let's be realistic- probably ten minutes now that you've annoyed me. Load bags into backseat, unbuckle kid, pick Cheerio debris off his face, arms and butt, set in seat, buckle into seat, get snack cup, hand over snack cup, pick up snack cup from the parking lot when he lobs it back at my head....I'll quit, but you get the picture. And there she sat, blinker blink-blink-blinking and traffic backing up behind her. 'Tis the season......