Life right now is really something.
Yesterday, my gray-eyed, curly-haired girl turned five.
Those five years flew by in a flash.
Today, I am still reeling from an intense headache that hit my about 11am yesterday and hasn't quit.
Today, my doctor said I'm still too large for my current week in pregnancy.
I've learned to take his comments in stride--only 11 weeks left of hearing his voice anyway.
I'm the sort of tired that makes your eyes feel droopy and heavy all day long, but especially at 1pm.
I don't sleep great at night; I wake up soaked with sweat and wonder if I am also experiencing menopause at the same time as pregnancy.
Exercising is becoming quite a chore, but it's one of the only chores I actually enjoy doing.
My house is still in pieces after coming home from Pennsylvania.
My dad left it clean, but I'm just behind on all my normal chores, which eats away at my nerves.
Our trip to Philly (more later) was a dream. A quick one, but a real one. And it was magical.
Elle got mad at me today because our plans got rearranged. She told me she didn't love me anymore. I pulled the car off the road and let her know words like that can damage a mama heart; I told her to tell me she was mad at me instead. She told me that ALL the way home.
Watching my girls grow up is becoming my favorite hobby.
Being more unplugged this year has been very refreshing.
Work is not refreshing. It's piling up after my trip, and my heavy eyes are struggling to stay awake long enough to complete simple tasks.
But I'm so glad I work. I don't think I say that enough. It keeps my brain questioning things.
I feel 100% unprepared to have a baby boy. I have serious anxiety about him coming, but my body wants to force him out now.
And Tim looked at me yesterday with the eyes of man so in love, and I thought how in the world did I get so lucky.
My life is really something, and I like it. I just need more sleep.

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"Be kind and considerate with your criticism... It's just as hard to write a bad book as it is to write a good book." Malcolm Cowley