*sigh* You're right. So, celebrating mediocrity for the 100th time, I present:
(*until they come back, which they probably will and I will again be placed on homicide-watch.)
You see, fleas attacked us. No, we don't have pets. Yes, I am a clean (obsessively so) person and yes, they really are as obnoxious as you've heard. So after 2 treatments from Terminix (the only reason I've made it through this past year in the dump I call my house) and daily vacuuming, it appears that so far, we've kept the pesky little punks at bay. Score. One. For. Me.
(And I neeeeeed that point.)
Well. In the midst of all the drama and chaos resulting from our arachnid visitors, I was able to get all 4 of our trees up. See?
The living room tree... well, part of it.
The dining room tree.
The girls' tree.
Speaking of stocking holders, I had to go buy a few extra ones to accommodate our expanded family, as well as this year's stupendous addition of my mom and sister! (And even still have one left over for baby #4...? Eventually...? Please, Hubby...?)
So... hm. Well, also in Melis-News, Jordan has been driving me crazy since she learned to roll over. She actually not only learned to roll, but developed a rolling compulsion. See, I can't keep the kid on her back for the life of me. Not for a diaper change, not in the bouncer, not even on my lap to nurse, since she's halfway there. She in fact spends the nursing sessions trying to go the rest of the way over and wind up on my lap on her belly. Oh, but it's not because she likes being on her belly. In fact, she hates it. And she doesn't think to just roll back. No, she starts shrieking immediately like someone was eviscerating her with a dull spoon. I mean, normally, fine. Whatever, Kiddo, I'll help you out. But it gets pretty old when it happens, oh 12 times a night. Or when it cuts nap short for you AND your sister... AND your brother because your wailing is loud enough to rattle our next-door neighbor's dishes. I have no idea how to stop this, either. She's a weird, weird kid.
The silver lining to the flea issue and to the Jordan/OCD issue is that the combination of the running around and doing crazy housework thanks to the fleas and the increased nursing to get Jordan to sleep after her 5th or 6th nightly wake-up has kicked my metabolism into high gear because mysteriously, I'm back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Now, my pre-pregnancy weight was not my ideal weight (I have another 5lbs to go to hit that one) and furthermore, pre-pregnancy weight in no way is related to pre-pregnancy shape. I could lose another 30 pounds and not attain that... well, I would probably die at that point, but you get the point. So, go me! (Really, what this means is that my jeans are looser and all the more willing to allow Muffin Top to creep up and greet the world... joy.)
And lastly, (for now, as I'm making fudge and need to
*Sigh* Okay, well, I did try to give you a good post for #100, but my tired brain failed me and hey, at least there are photos, right? Right. Stop whining.
Here's to 100 more gems...