The worstest part of insomnia is my brain: Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. It simply won't shut up. Whether it's anxious nonsense, brilliant insights, or once again a search for the most original, culturally relevant, lovely, meaningful baby name ever, I just wish I could turn off the noise in my head.
20 days from the due date.
We saw Sponge Bob The Movie with Anne and Adam.
Geoff made Russian Tea.
Russian Tea ought to be served with a bowl of homemade Chex Mix.
Baby Jordan weighed nine and a half pounds!
Chango is no longer afraid of Brahm's Lullaby played from a spinning cow mobile.
We found the leak in the upstairs bathroom; it's not as bad as it smells.
I made Thanksgiving dinner; it's in the freezer.
I am the only one that likes cranberry relish.
The pride in having a clean house lasts only as long as the house remains clean.
I still look for Diego.
Max is more than half way through his second math book.
William's hair is long.
I doubt I'll finish the second quilt.
Though Max begged us to stop, we sang Christmas carols last night.
I still need to mail thank you cards. In Spanish.
Alex rubs my back. Delightful.
Somewhere in the garage I know there is a box with a few baby things that I saved from the boys.
I want that box. Now.
Yesterday I scrubbed scruff marks off the walls.
I'm still awake.
Still sitting here, and wondering what to name the baby, and whether I should take a shower now or wait 'til (later in the) morning.
P.S.A.: If you have ever left anything here, it is either gone forever or it can be found in The Box of Things Left Here, by the front door.
I was supposed to call the bank, and pick up the kit for cord blood registry.
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