Ok, trying to update this thing regularly.

It's raining tonight, but I was out with Len ... without any kids!!! so I walked her up to the bus stop just for the thrill of walking around without other people attached to me. I should be following Weight Watchers since I did not lose any weight last week (only been on the program 2 weeks -- too early to give up) but Len bought me delicious chocolate chip cookies and a latte and I said screw it. Plus, I had to eat huge amounts of food today because I was so nursing hungry. Or maybe because it was a yucky afternoon of hanging around the house (and around the kids and Larry, who was doing work on our house) that I just snacked. But I don't think so - I think I was starving. I haven't been full in weeks, even after a big meal.

So, I just walked around in the rain and felt everything lift and it was gorgeous. I got home and Larry was crabby, and I was like, hey, I'm going upstairs to do job apps - see ya. I felt kind of bad because I think he really needed to talk, but I just needed to not be needed for an hour. I need to be alone with me. I need to need me. I need to fill my own needs for a while.

And they never turn out to be just my needs, anyway. I mean, I'm applying for jobs to keep my family afloat, not upstairs painting my nails. Not that there's anything wrong with painting my nails -- I need to do that stuff more. It's so hard to justify it to myself, though. It seems I have so little time with both kids sleeping (and when I'm not at work) that I have to use every precious second. Larry doesn't get that - I mean men don't, not just my poor put-upon husband. He can watch hours of t.v. and not even think once about the dishes in the sink or stay up late and not think about how he needs sleep because he's going to have to get up to nurse all night and then get up with the baby in the morning and get everyone ready to go in the morning. He can just get up, put his clothes on, and walk out the door. So he doesn't get why I'm stressed in the morning. And he doesn't get that in order to not be super stressed in the a.m. (and be late for work), I have to get everything done the night before. So, he thinks I'm a workaholic. But if I suggest I would be less of one if the dishes were done, the clothes were folded, and the lunches magically made for me .... well, that's nagging :)