I have no business being up this late. None whatsoever. But it is the last night of the week before the master comes home, and this is the hardest night to get to sleep because I miss him. Mom and Dad came in for Levi's birthday weekend, and so I've got Mom's phone to do a little unwinding. I'm so hungry for media by Saturday night, that after the first hour of the master's homecoming, I find myself reaching for his phone, and that only makes me feel like a beast. He teases me about only wanting him home for Facebook, and we both laugh, but on some level, it probably does bother him Thus, I blog tonight, and then put this dark addiction aside, and focus on my family. And what a family filled weekend it will be.
Tomorrow we have four soccer games. Argh...but we are three Saturdays away from the end of the season, so there is a light at the end of the tunnel. We love soccer, but NEVER would I have signed up four kids had I known that I would be living life as a single mom.
Sunday, John will take the kids to church. More often than not, I do not attend church these days. WHOLE 'nuther post. Possibly a series.. Church is a hurtful place. Even though these people are not the same people who hurt us(and they really have helped us tremendously), I dread being hurt again.
After church is Levi's second birthday party, with many, many family and friends, all eating bar-b-q and having a rip- roaring (it is Cowboy themed) good time. Hard to believe my little
man is two. He is going to be so stinkin' cute in his cowboy duds, I may just have to hurt myself. Oh, but he is bad. We probably should have made the party outlaw themed. T'would be more appropriate.
Based on the number of parenthesis I've used already in this post, I should call it a night. The ghost of my 11th grade English teacher will haunt my dreams for sure. I'm off to pump some milk for the preemie babies of East Texas. I'm a donor mom with 104 ounces to my credit! I feel like I'm paying it forward for all the donor breast milk Cara consumed in her first year, AND the sent me a nifty "Breadtmilk: Every Ounce Counts" bumper sticker for my van (the better to torture my junior high kids with).
Sorry, Mrs. Simmons, I couldn't resist one more set.
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