Here we are again at the middle of another crazy week. Ready for some fun little mid-week confessions? Here we go!
First things first...let's talk about The Walking Dead. In my last post I talked about how excited I was for the upcoming season premiere, and it certainly didn't disappoint! Sunday nights are pretty much all I have to live for right now. If you aren't caught up you should probably stop reading now (and get off the internet entirely, since it's filled with spoilers around every corner). Spoiler alert- Abraham and Glenn are gone. Sad, sad day. I could deal with Abraham, but not Glenn...even though I knew his death was coming. It was really sad, shocking, and way more graphic than I anticipated. I'm not a huge fan of super-dark, gory crap, so I was a little annoyed at how gross the deaths were. I knew what was coming and how Glenn would die, but didn't expect to see it like that. It was just too much. I had to get up and leave the room to pace around nervously and try not to listen to the sounds of what was going on. If the goal was to get us to hate Negan though, seriously, they outdid themselves. I hope Rick gets him at some point!
In memory of when I used to sleep. I saw that printed on a mug or a shirt somewhere and I laughed out loud because that's exactly how I feel right now. I haven't had a really good night of sleep in 2 months now and I'm starting to feel as zombie-like as the walkers on my favorite show. It's gotten a little bit better- Josiah has managed to sleep a few long stretches at the beginning of the night from around 8pm to 1 or 2am. That's 5-6 hours, so not bad for a little guy. Still really bad for me though since I'm not actually asleep until at least 10pm. And these 5-6 hour stretches are not consistent at all, so one night I'll get a good little chunk of sleep and then the next 3 nights will be pure hell again, waking every 1-2 hours to feed him and put him back in his swing. (Yes, he's still sleeping in his swing. I'm in survival mode, people! Do whatever necessary!)
I'm glad Halloween is over. Yeah, you heard me. I don't really love Halloween. I just always feel pressure to find costumes for the kids and make it fun and memorable, when really I don't care about it and would rather buy my kids some candy and watch Hocus Pocus. I like decorating the house and the events leading up to Halloween (pumpkin patches, caramel apples, harvest parties, etc), but trick-or-treating in Washington is always wet and rainy and your costumes get ruined by big coats and boots. Who wants to be Elsa or a witch or a sexy kitten while wearing galoshes and trudging through mucky leaves while freezing to death in those paper-thin costumes? Besides, this is 2 years in a row that Harper's been terrified of her costume. I had high hopes of her and Josiah being Dory and Nemo (her current favorite movie) but she was scared of the Dory tutu dress. Add that on top of a grouchy 2 month old who just got his shots and a couple of sick kids and your trick-or-treating plans go bye bye. Somehow I got over it though.
I want to burn my bra. Not in like a feminist sort of way or anything, but I seriously want to set fire to all of my big, sexy nursing bras. Why? I hate bras. When I'm not pregnant or nursing I almost never wear one around the house (no need to really when you're an A cup). But while nursing I have to keep one on 24/7, even to bed, which I positively loathe. Plus, when I catch a glimpse of myself changing in the mirror I see all that fabric and I feel like a grandmother or something in this huge, beige, full-coverage bra with the industrial sized straps and clasps. I don't mind breastfeeding, and I actually sorta love it, but the bra part sucks and is so uncomfortable. I will be happy to destroy them when the day comes that Josiah weans from the boob!
I hate Costco milk. Seriously Costco, I know your stupid square milk jugs are probably way easier to stack in gigantic warehouses, but think of your customers, especially those of us with cereal-eating children who spill the damn milk all over the floor and counter every single day. Your milk jugs suck and I silently curse my husband every time he comes home with them proclaiming "I remembered the milk!" Thanks, honey.
Two more days until Friday, which I'm not looking forward to because my kids have been home sick all week. I need some quiet time. I better wrap this up and enjoy my two hours of sleep!