Why sleep at night when you can lie awake wondering why your deployed hubby hasn't emailed you yet? I know I'm being ridiculous, but I don't sleep when I don't hear from him.
I just ordered the Christmas photos of the kids. A local photographer offered a free sitting and photos for those of us who have a deployed daddy during the holidays. I'm not sure when I got that head injury, but I managed to bring the kids to the photo shoot without any sort of Christmas attire whatsoever. Additionally, I allowed that day to be Katie's dress-up day (where she dresses herself head-to-toe). The resulting outfit? She had on more stripes than a herd of zebras. She had on every single color of a rainbow (we're talking ROY G BIV here people) plus some new made-up colors. Sam had on an orange shirt with a giant gorilla on it. Imagine my horror as all the little girls walked by in their fluffy dresses and make up, while the little boys strolled around in their miniature suits. Then, there's my kids. Like I said, I don't know when I got the head injury that does not allow me to figure out that a holiday photo shoot means they should get dressed for the occasion; I just know I have one. Luckily, my kids are cute (and the photog cropped the hell out of the pics so you couldn't see Katie's bottom half) and the pictures turned out to be fine.
I'll add that little snafu to my "Mother of the Year" write-up.
Oh, another cool thing happened to me today: Katie drank out of my water bottle sometime before her ballet lesson. Katie can backwash ANYONE under the table. When I took my swig, it tasted like hot dog water. A smidge of chewed-up matter confirmed my suspicions that Katie not only drank out of my bottle, she left some of her hot dog dinner to share. This ranks higher in grossness than the time I took what I thought would be a huge swig of cold sweet ice tea, but instead found a mouthful of warm whole milk swishing around my tongue. Katie had switched our styrofoam cups. That kid. I love her so.
I shall attempt to sleep again. Actually, just remembering that little bit of hot dog in my mouth makes me sort of ill. If I keep chanting "sleep is overrated" over and over again, I will grow to accept it, right?
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