Priorities.

I went from this:


To this:

And it's OK. It really is. For the moment, I'm enchanted by new car smell, and the shiny paint, and the lack of pug hair. In the long run, I'm going to love automatic sliding doors and lift gates, and having enough space to put, as my sister once ruminated about her 3 rowed SUV "An entire row between me and them".

Of course, now that she has her sexy Jeep Wrangler, she won't cop to that, but trust me, it was said.

Although I worry about Amy's memory. Recently she tried to pin an old crime on me that had witnesses, for crying out loud. One, that I'd like to point out, that I never laughed at her directly for. I was nice enough to go into another room. Because I am a good and decent sister. That's just how I roll.

Blatently stolen from her cousin.

Brian and Jess got some great pictures of cousin Maya peeking out of the tunnels at their playground, and darned if we didn't stumble upon some of the same shots this morning. Our apologies to the original artists.

Note to self : Two hours at the playground on a sunny spring day is a grand way to tire out a 2 year old.

More note: It's also a grand way to exhaust someone who is 8 months pregnant, and completely calcified from lack of exercise.

I've needed to get to the store all week, and I think we'll go out to dinner tonight, because our options at home are cereal, dust bunnies and Mandarin oranges. I've driven through the lot of our grocery store a couple of times, but the 'expectant mothers' spot has been taken each time. The thought of walking further than that is unbearable, not to mention the whole "have to convince the toddler that the red car cart is equal, if not superior to, the blue car cart."

Not that I'm complaining. Because that isn't like me AT ALL.

Happy Easter, you bunch of bunny lovers.

Please don't ask Scarlett what the Easter Bunny brought her, because I, as the worst and most tired mother ever, did not actually get around to mailing in our letters to the Easter Bunny or filling out the requisition forms, or whatever it is one does to get the rabbit to show up and drop off a treat filled basket. Call CPS if you want, but I would hope that the bureaucrats would take pity on a very pregnant lady who was sick of all things pastel and sugar.

She's still pretty psyched about all the egg hunts we've been on this year, and as far as she is concerned the Big Bunny shows up someplace, hides a bunch of eggs [or in our case just scatters them about on the lawn and calls it a day] and then she gets to pick up as many as she can hold and put them in her basket. Trust me, she gets it.

Of course, I was planning on holding off on telling her that there was anything inside the eggs, but someone blew that for us when he rifled through them, looking for the good chocolate. We now understand not only what candy is, but that Mommy was a big fat liar when she told us that M&M's are solely for consumption on airplanes.

It couldn't last. I guess I knew that.

The stomach bug has an unforseen consequence.

When you don't eat, you tend to lose weight. And when you are barely 25 pounds to begin with, you can't really stand to lose much, or you start suffering pants related issues.