You Know You're Tired When...

You know you're tired when, as you're making lunches for school the next day, you ask your son if he wants boots on his chicken sandwich. As in purple rubber boots, not Boots from Dora.

And then you call him Thumbelina instead of Zoomer.

And then as you're studying with another offspring of your husbands...just bear with me - the children are all the fruit of Mr. Happy's looms, I'm taking no responsibility for them tonight...you begin to slur your words and see double.

Is it wrong of me to be counting the seconds before the children are in bed?

My mind has gone blank, but I know there's a good word out there for how I feel. Blank.

So this morning, I took Thumbelina for a photo shoot and I'm very excited to see what the pictures will look like. Alas, I'm not going to post the photographer's website because it names my hometown, and I'm not wanting all the crazies out there to know where I live. True, I'm related to most of them, but they still don't need to know where I live. I will be sure to post pictures for you when I get them.

My little princess is turning into quite the spitfire. I was in the nursery with her last night, and I have a rule of no children on the table. It's a kid-sized table and they love to lay on their bellies on it. Well, the little miss was climbing on it - at one point she crawled from one end to the other on it, so I started putting her in the corner for time out. Which she thought was pretty spectacular. And it even got to the point where once she started to climb on the table and I stood up, she'd run laughing and put herself in the corner.

I know.

We're in big trouble.