Ahhh what the heck am I still doing here? It’s time to hit the gym, and then get home to put an actual pen to paper.
Although, truth be told, I did end up talking to a coworker for, like, an hour out of the blue. So out of the blue and so lost track of all time. It was so out of this worked that my boss came looking for me to tell me she was heading to a meeting…and I was still standing there talking. What can I say? My job is to be social….but probably not that kind of social. I really hope this doesn’t come back to bite me in the butt.
Tomorrow’s plan? To be chained to my desk. Hopefully, I am not wearing spandex shorts underneath whatever I don as my apparel choices for tomorrow. It is highly uncomfortable…but I probably shouldnt be wearing a dress in the middle of 27 degree weather either. It’s winter, girl. Get home, and put your fuzzy pajama pants on. Lay on the couch with your DVD player and cry your eyes out as the horse drama plays out in front of you (and no, I am not kidding. Watch the movie ‘Flicka’ if you’ve ever had a problem with your father and you will weep like a baby. Or I’m just incredibly emotional ALL THE TIME these days.)
Is this what happens when you give a large part of your life to the higher beings? When you fully place your trust in them to take control of any aspect of your life, and let be what will be? Does everyone become an emotional mess when they have no control over certain things? Like my never-ending need to shove chips and chocolate down my gullet? I did have a salad the other day, so I can’t be treating myself THAT horribly.
On a happier note…Kate Middleton is expecting! I was so happy to hear the news, I started jumping up and down. My next course of action? To unofficially start planning a baby shower in her honor. How sad am I? But what a great party idea! I’m looking forward to seeing what sort of stylish pregnant mommy looks she’s doing to bring to the front page of every fashion magazine in the world.
One thing is for sure…unless pushing out an 8-pound baby knocks a few screws loose in her noggin’, I don’t think she’ll be posing nude with her pregnant belly like some other notable celebrities. Demi Moore, cough cough. I’m glad women are very proud with their enlarged and pregnant bellies, but keep it covered ladies. I’ll deal with it and see it first hand when I’m carrying a child of my own.
Until then, cover up!
“My kids are sane.”
The every-so-lovely Michelle Obama speaks her mind on her finest achievement during her first year of being her ladyship, the First Lady. I hear ya, Ms. Obama, and I’m sure the Duchess of Cambridge will have the same thought running through her mind when her little one is born in a handful of months. The whole world will be watching, all too closely for anyone’s taste. (I sure do hope she has a little girl. A little princess born to the perfect fairytale couple. Oh no, I’m getting weepy again…)
It’s my hope and dream to be what I call a “hot mama” when I rock the baby bump. Fit, stylish, and not the least bit afraid of how I look because giving birth is the miracle of life. It’s a miracle I really look forward to taking part in one day. On a different thought, is this what happens when you give up on your love life, even if temporarily? Do you start daydreaming about babies and pregnant bellies and weeping at the sight of every itty-bitty tiny child you come across? If so, I’m a goner.
I went to a new brew house’s opening night to, of course, try the beer, and the food, and I ended up sitting at a table next to a very cute little baby boy. Definitely going to be a flirt, that one. He wouldn’t take his eyes off of me! It had nothing to do with the funny faces I was making at him, but still! I didn’t mind. He was adorable, and his smile? Gush-worthy. (Do you hear me talking? It wasn’t even my kid and I can’t shut up about him.)
What kind of mother will I be? Embarrassing. That;s a no-brainer. I kind of look forward to the day my kids tell me I’m “so embarrassing…like, seriously Mom!” I bet I’ll be holding a lightsaber when they speak these fated words.
God save the man who provides the second part of the equation to my carrying a child.