7,350,658 Number of failed attempts to catch a bit more shut-eye this month. I swear my kids have teamed up with the world's telemarketers and all the people of Illinois to ensure that I do not get any extra sleep ever. Seriously. The few chances I get to lie down for a nap, one of the kids comes into my room screeching, "Wake up, Mommy! No sleeping!" or the phone rings. If it isn't someone asking me to donate to breast cancer research, then it is the Red Cross requesting I donate blood. And on the rare days the phone doesn't ring, someone actually rings my doorbell. Now, why, why I ask you would anyone think I am interested in buying meat from the trunk of their car? These salesmen come at least a couple of times a year and none of my excuses ever deter them. Once I even claimed we were vegetarian, thinking surely this would convince them to quit bothering me. No luck.
1.5 The measly number of pounds I have lost in the last two weeks of strict dieting and grueling workouts. What's up with that?
16 number of mini mint 3 Musketeer bars consumed this past week. What? Don't tell me chocolate isn't part of a "strict diet." I mean, they're mini, for pete's sake. And yes, I know I am addicted.
3 Number of days I skipped grueling workouts this week. Hey, I have to start slow, right? Can't just start whole hog. I DID just have a baby, people. Give me a break.
1 Number of times Charlotte called the planet Uranus "my anus" today. Made me laugh like a prepubescent boy.
1 Number of times I was totally puked on in the wee hours of this morning. Tommy really got me--spit up all down my shirt, and it was 4 am. I reeked of baby spit up until 2 this afternoon when I was finally able to get a freaking shower.
3 Number of weeks I have been husbandless every single weeknight, which means it has been over three weeks since I have been able to escape this asylum by myself. I am beginning to feel a bit trapped and loony. I need to get out of this house without any children. And not to go grocery shopping or errand running, because that SO does not count.
3 Number of months I told Bil I was supposed to wait before having sex postpartum. I think he caught on that I might be exaggerating a bit.