Monday, June 20, 2011

Dese Guys

Charles is hoping for a spot on the Seahawks’ roster:


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The neighborhood kids enjoy dogpiling on our front lawn, especially when Tony is in the mix (I think because he throws them around – at one point he had a kid hanging from each arm and was spinning).


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And this is what happened on Father’s Day:


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The boys slept in, I made blueberry banana pancakes for everyone, and then I went to church alone.  A nice, little Sunday. 


Still no baby.  But I do have sausage fingers, incurable heartburn, and I can no longer sleep in my own bed because my hips and pelvis are threatening to disintegrate, so I’m on the couch.  Think good thoughts for me, I am unsure as to how much more I can handle before giving up sanity entirely.

1 comment:

K Schimmy said...

Sausage fingers. Sounds delicious.

I know it's lame to say this, but hang in there and enjoy the relative silence. And peace. And lack of hormonal tears. Okay, I'll shut up now.

Thinking of you.