1. I make macaroni and cheese how I
I remember following the directions on the box STEP BY STEP as a kid - each time, reading it carefully like it was the first time. Measuring milk and butter precisely, having to check the box with each ingredient to make sure I was reading it right. "Ok, a quarter cup of milk, right?" Well, I made macaroni and cheese last night for Porter, and I realized that I don't even know what the directions say anymore - I just know the suggested amount of milk makes it too dang runny, and I like it better with sour cream instead instead - it makes it thicker and more "homemade" tasting. Sometimes I mix in garlic salt, sometimes I add a can of tuna, last night I got a little crazy and stirred in some leftover shredded
The other day, I ran out to get Christmas shopping done and left the boys with Grammy and Opa. It was late, I hadn't eaten, and there is a Panera in the mall parking lot. So, I drove through and got a quinoa and lentil bowl and a mango smoothie, and I ate every last bit in the parking lot. Not because I needed alone time, or because I didn't want to share my food, but because I cannot physically eat and drive anymore. I would hurt someone. It's a hazard, and I know that now. So, I listened to Christmas music and savored every last bit in the parking lot before I went home. Not sorry. Just over here
3. Normal music offends me.
I don't need to add much to that. If they play it on MTV, I'm seriously horrified. I used to not care about lyrics, but as an adult, I find myself listening to every word and saying things like: "omg, did he really just say that?" This summer, coworkers asked me if I'd ever paid attention to the words to Usher's song "I Don't Mind". I hadn't heard it entirely, just the catchy "
I love you all. I really do. But 80% of the time, if you have to back out or re-schedule, I'm not offended at all. That means I probably don't have to put on pants, or attempt to mask the dark circles under my eyes. But if you back out on a dinner date? I might
As I lay my boys down each day, sometimes I fight jealousy. I would die for someone to tuck me in, kiss me on the forehead, and get upset with me if I got up. Maybe just once? It would be a dream.
This is just the best. Period.
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