It's 11pm and the house is quiet, aside from the white noise of fans and the exaggerated snoring of my beloved Clydas. Just a few minutes ago, I was finally able to brush my teeth and trade the sweat-smelling banana-mash-smeared work clothes for flannel pj shorts and an oversized Eleiko shirt I got for free at a Weightlifting meet a few years ago.
We canceled an upcoming trip to California, opting to post pone it until the early winter, but it's still great to have something to look forward to. Someone recently commented to me that tag team parenting is great for saving on child care costs, but tough on a marriage. They aren't necessarily wrong. We haven't had anything I can call a date since February, but we're soaking up time with the Beanie Girl while she's still, well, Beanie. With her one yeat birthday right around the corner (how did THAT happen?!?) She's in a stage where she's changing leaps and bounds, so it's nice to experience all those firsts.
It was a fantastic treat to join my weightlifting buddies on Sunday on a workout that left me (literally) dizzy for a good while. I got to be me for a few hours, with no demands that the mom version of me do anything (other than hurry home when I was done). Interestingly enough, I was hopeful that pregnancy would be the cure to the PCOS and Endometriosis, but the workout reminded me that the hug of barbed wire still can randomly strike at any time. But I got through it, none the less.