Three days . . .

Until the little guy turns 1.

I know. I've been MIA.

Why? I've been . . . drumroll please . . . reflecting.

I hate when I do that.

I've been a bit . . . emotional. No, not all weepy and stuff. Well, not much anyway.

Is it because J is turning 1? I think that is part of it. But, I also think my recent foray into the psychological abyss that is my mind is more about life in general.

I've been thinking about everything from our loved ones who are no longer with us to the fact that my butt just doesn't look the same in my favorite jeans anymore.

I have about a half dozen unfinished posts. I start one, get all excited, read it over. DELETE.

Like . . .

The post about the two elderly ladies at the park who talked incessantly about their love lives (in detail). I may need therapy . . . DELETE.

OR

My two-hour drive home with two screaming infants in the back seat of my car. I had one of those crazy "I can't do anything about it but laugh until I pass out" laughs going on. You know, the freaky kind that make you think you are going crazy. I'm pretty sure my friend will NEVER call me for a play date again. DELETE

OR

A story from high school that involved an eggs, doggy biscuits, toilet paper and a Chinese restaurant place mat. DELETE. Wait . . . that I might save 'til later.

OR

The letter to single guys who think they poop gold, pee Dom Perignon, are as intelligent as Einstein, as charming as Clooney, as hot as Pitt, and that any chick fortunate enough to be in his presence should thank her lucky stars. Well, you don't. You ain't. And the WOMEN today are much smarter than that (even if it takes a date or two to realize it). That post came with a free quart of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia and a copy of Sleepless in Seattle. DELETE. Well, maybe not quite yet . . . I mean, ice cream???

Yeah, so I've been busy NOT writing. Not posting. Not commenting (much, if at all). I feel as if I'm constantly wiping away the cobwebs from the lap top. That will change . . . soon.

BUT, I have been soaking up each and every second of J's life leading up to THE BIG DAY. Playing, tickling, chasing, bouncing, jumping, laughing, chatting, reading, singing . . . swelling . . . as in my big fat heart.

* * *
I can't leave you with yet ANOTHER sappy ending . . . so, let me leave you with this forgive me.

I've been trying to figure out how to get rid of my favorite fashion accessory. (BTW, Firecracker Mom, can this count as my sexy pic? 'Cause this is as close as anyone's gonna get. And I am showin' a little leg . . . ).


Wish me luck. I'm going for a run now (Well, not RIGHT now. After I finish spooning my tub of leftover chocolate frosting and sniffling over America's Got Talent --AKA Sap Fest.