1731 The Breakfast Club of my life.

Saucy Scale:  eh, whatever.

This October will mark my 20th high school reunion. 

I went to an amazing private school.  I loved high school more than you can ever imagine.  Everyday felt like a page from a John Hughes movie script.  And I wasn’t one of the loser kids, either.

I like my memories where they are…perfect and intact…and stuck in the timewarp of 1988.

I was beautiful.  I was popular.  I was a cheerleader.  I always had a boyfriend.  And I was thin.

Don’t get me wrong, I am a woman of substance these days…in a way I NEVER was back in high school.  But I hate the thought of people who knew me back then, seeing the body of who I am now.  I know that is incredibly stupid and vain.  There you go.  I guess I just like it that they remember the cute and perky me.

This has nothing to do with my super hot husband.  This has nothing to do with my darling children.  This has nothing to do with my wonderful and perfect life.  It has everything to do with my @ss.  Period.

Then again…I’m becoming swept up with the nostalgic fever.  Over the summer I ran into a guy from my high school class.  (His wife & I have actually become friends since he & I reconnected.)  Then I registered online with the high school’s alumni association.  Now classmates are coming out of the woodwork.  Dragging me kicking and screaming into 20th Reunion Fever.

It’s funny to see two guys marked as "connections" at the alumni website.  Two guys who NEVER were pals in high school.  I guess time can cause amnesia or something.

In other news:

I am still sick as a dog.  Some really nasty meals have come back to haunt me lately.

My children are still amazingly beautiful and funny.  I am a bad mommy for not focusing my energies writing about their perfection.

My in-laws were here for the weekend.  My hubby & FIL performed many amazing feats of home repair & redecorating.  Thank you, honey.

My girlfriend who thought she might be knocked up (unmarried & a stupid weekend fling of unprotectedness) has officially dodged the bullet. Good grief.  That could’ve been a nightmare.

I am busy as heck struggling to get my act together with this charity fundraiser I’m in charge of.  Crap!  I am so unmotivated.  I am unprepared.  I am too tired & sick in the evening to give a rat’s @ss, quite frankly.  I’ve got our first meeting 2 nights from now.  I am so screwed.

Tomorrow morning we’ve got our nursery school "teacher home visit".  In an attempt to introduce Gus to his new teachers (2) in a safe & comfortable manner, the school has the teachers visit the students in our own homes.  My house is a bit of a pit.  I will be triaging the main floor of the house for their visit.  I should care, but I can’t find the energy to waste.

I decided that since Gus will be in nursery school on Thursday & Friday mornings this year, that I should take advantage of the situation & sign Mattson up for Parents Day Out (PDO) one morning a week.  So, if all goes according to plan, I will enjoy onecompletely child-free morning every week (with the exception of the one in my belly).

Speaking of the one in my belly… Gus is sure that he will be getting a baby sister when all is said and done.  He’s so sure of it, that he announced "I have a baby sister" to his Sunday School class this morning.  The teacher, not aware of my current state of preggo-ness, was a bit confused.

Tuesday morning is my next prenatal appointment.

This is a truly busy and rather crazy week for me.  Don’t know when you’ll hear from me again.  Maybe on Friday when I crash in a heap on the floor.

5 Things That Make Me Happy:

1. Post Puke, I feel like a new woman immediately.  (It’s like there’s a whole bunch of room in my tummy & it’s waiting for the next meal.)
2. My daily afternoon nap.  What would I do without you?  You are my bff. 
3. Pretzels & grapes.  The perfect snack.
4. The end of The Olympics.  Call me un-American.  Bored now.
5. My new kitchen backsplash.  Those tiles & supplies have been stored under the kitchen sink for over a year.  Now, I have a pretty kitchen.  Thank you, honey!