As my BIL says, “Meh.”

Well it’s Monday. (Do I really need to say anymore?)

Beau is walking around asking me where his peanut is.

I’m trying to think about what to plan for a menu for this week.

Not looking forward to taking the boys grocery shopping with me, but looking forward to having some good salads this week.

Thinking about changing the direction of this post…

Did I mention that for the past two weeks my sixteen year old brother in law has been living with us? He is doing sort of an “internship” with my husband, learning how to use photoshop, video editing tools, and recording programs, as well as writing lots of music and practicing his bass. In addition to that, he’s been watering and mowing our lawn, and has spent a lot of his time entertaining, playing with, and watching Drew and Beau. Which, as you can imagine, is a great relief for a woman who is nine months pregnant. Plus, as I told my MIL, its really nice to have someone else around the house during the day that can actually participate in a normal adult conversation. I’m not talking like a toddler by the time my husband comes home. This week, Philip is back at his home for marching band camp, and will return on the weekend, possibly with his sister, Andrea. I’m looking forward to them being here…and hope I survive the week without them… 😉

In other news…my feet are beginning to swell just a bit- and the only way I can tell is that they don’t look nearly as boney as they normally do. I think they actually might look a little bit better with some water retention. LOL.

Also, we’ve been having 90 degree and higher weather here, and I cannot, for the life of me, get Drew to dress himself in summer clothes. I even tried switching his shorts drawer with his pants drawer, but he still insists on wearing pants and long sleeved shirts everyday. The only time he puts on shorts is when his pants are all in the laundry. Maybe I should just hide his pants for awhile? He does go change into his summer clothes when I ask him to, but it would be so much easier if he just started out the day in them, don’t you think?

This morning, right after I put my mascara on, I had to sneeze. So in addition to having to squeeze my legs together to avoid peeing my pants, I had mascara all over the place. Don’t you just hate when that happens?

I have several pics to post to show you a few of the things I’ve been up to. Like, I finished knitting a purse, and it’s really cute! Yay! (Now for that bib…) Buuuuut…yes, there’s a but, I need to back up all the photos on my computer, there are way too many on here, and it cannot take another load in… (also a reason I haven’t taken and posted another belly shot…sorry!)

I am definitely ready to go take a nap already. It’s only 10:47 a.m. my time.

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5 thoughts on “As my BIL says, “Meh.”

  1. At least your kid wants to wear clothes. I condider that progress! In this house I get them dressed… leave the room to get my purse… step back in the room to leave, AND THEY ARE NAKED. It is so frustrating.

    And that mascara thing… Okay, if you have another hilarious story like that, put it at the END of your post. Cuz i swear, I started laughing and laughing and I couldn’t concentrate on the rest of the stuff you wrote even though I re-read it six times. 🙂

  2. OMG! The mascara/peeing bit made me laugh SO hard!

    Remind me to not get pregnant. Peeing my pants every time I sneeze does not sound fun considering I have really bad allergies! LOL

  3. My 17 year old daughter was the same way. And she STILL is. We are in Nebraska right now and summer is hot, hot, hot and humid and she’ll go out the door in jeans, turtleneck and hoody like it’s January.
    Then complains that it’s hot.
    It’s not like she doesn’t have shorts, t-shirts and other acceptable summer clothing that she picked out herself. She says she looks better in winter clothes and that’s why she wears them all the time.
    I am at a loss.
    The other one, my 13 year old daughter, wears summer clothes year round. Something is genetically wrong here and it’s all my husband’s fault.

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