one track mind? I wish

My brain is in about a million different places. Clearly. For example, today after the gym, the kids and I went to Satan-land (aka Walmart) because I needed potatoes and those Command wall hooks for the stockings. What I ended up getting was this:

*A small bookshelf for Claire’s room

*Five purple storage bins

*Dora Bandaids

*Lip balm

*Vicks humidifier syrup

*Room darkening shade and curtain rod

*A full sized mattress protector pad

Let’s review here. No where did I read that I got potatoes or those Command wall hook thingies. My receipt says that I suck.

Then, this afternoon, Claire’s new comforter and such came in the mail. She’s going to be moving into the full sized bed we have in the guest room and thus giving Luca the twin bed. He’ll be moving into the guest room. It’s already painted grey. Sweet. One less thing I have to do.

So, moving on, Claire said, “I want my big bed tonight!”

And I replied, “Daddy is going to do that on Sunday.”

“But I can’t wait that long! I’m ‘cited!”

“Fine.”

Then me, and my not so bright brain decided to move them myself. I’M SO SMART.

It was by far a lot easier than I had anticipated. Especially because I took the doors off the hinges.

Now her and Luca are playing in her room and I’m sitting on the floor of the hallway listening to Jason Mraz radio on Pandora and feeling the baby kick my butt because I wasn’t very bright.

Matt’s going to be soooo mad at me when he gets home. I can hear it now:

“Everything’s gotta be now, now, NOW doesn’t it? Huh? Why couldn’t you wait?”

“Because!”

“And did you forget that you’re 7 1/2 months pregnant!?”

“No.”

“So?”

“Yah?”

“Always now, now, now, huh?”

“Yup.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know.”

Perhaps I’ll just make him read this blog before he comes home so he knows he already yelled at me.

Nah. I like to give him surprises.

The kids must think I look so pathetic sitting in the hallway right now because they keep on coming out of Claire’s room and giving me hugs and kisses. I think I got about 50 so far.

It was totally worth it.

In other news, I’m totally done Christmas shopping. Totally, completely, finally done! I just have to finish stuffing Claire’s beanbag and the in-law’s pillows. Here’s a photo of Luca’s beanbag chair:

It’s about the size of twenty Luca-mans.

Gosh, I love being crafty.

 

(And see how this blog went a million different directions? See what I’m saying!?)

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About Cassie

Two sisters from two misters. What could be more fun?

Posted on December 2, 2010, in Cassie and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 12 Comments.

  1. Ok, I know I’m a total stranger and keep posting comments on your blog but you write such things that I just cannot help myself. When I was five months pregnant I decided it would be a good idea to haul a case of beer from the basement to the first floor. Somehow I failed to use my legs to lift and ended up with the worst backache and sciata nerve pain I have ever had. Four days of bedrest later, I was good as new. So please, please, stop lifting heavy or bulky things. I am super impressed that you’re in such great shape but still…..be kind to yourself. OK, that’s all the motherly nagging from this total stranger for now. P.S. Reading your posts is a nice and welcome interruption to my tedious day at the office.

  2. Ha! Crazy preggo lady! I hear ya and I remember those days very, very well. I’m glad the kids are showering you with loving attention – you deserve it!

  3. Man, you ROCKED that beanbag chair! It’s so cute!

    I hope we get photos of all your handmade Christmas gifts (hint, hint)!

  4. I think the cat is about to claim the beanbag for his own.

  5. I have done both the scatterbrained shopping and inappropriate lifting of heavy objects. I was determined to get the Christmas tree down from the attic by myself… before Mark finally stepped in and told me to get back. The thing is, I think he’s willing to let me figure out that moving big things is a bad idea the hard way.

    Love the bean bag chair!

  6. I literally laughed out loud at “my receipt says that I suck.” That sounds like all of my trips to Wal-mart (or as I will now refer to it, Satan-land). Or pretty much any store, for that matter.

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