Life's been charging on lately. Apparently I'm already 29 weeks along! This hoodlum straight-up parties for at least an hour straight every day. Seriously. The kicking, punching, rolling, stomping is out of control. You know it's bad when Tyler notices it and he isn't EVEN TOUCHING ME. Belly jumping for the win. Which, by the way, still is so strange to me, watching my former six-pack abs (ha!) do gymnastics seemingly of their own accord.
I started getting up at 5.30am in the morning. This is both my saving grace and my total downfall. Approximately once every two weeks, I end up so totally exhausted that I sleep like the dead on a Saturday morning until at least 11. Then I take a nap with the kids that day at around 1pm and go to bed by 8pm or so. But my days are calmer, I'm getting time with God, and when Mili bursts through the bedroom door with indomitable enthusiasm and starving for breakfast, I'm no longer covering my face with my hands and saying silent prayers to help me keep my tongue in check and say only nice things.