Sitting Here...

...Attempting to feel productive. And you know what? Blogging does. It's a weird fact, but it's true. It doesn't clean my house, it doesn't keep my trolls from getting into things they shouldn't, and it doesn't feed my husband. But it makes me feel better. Apparently exploiting my children, husband, and occasionally - myself, is good for the soul. I guess it's more of a public type of confession... which, reminds me is coming up. Hmmm... what do I tell them I've done?

How about:
Teaching my kids new words while driving in traffic. Today's was only crap and I feel like I'm a nominee for the worst mother ever award. Have you ever seen Calliou? That mom would so never teach her kids bad words while driving around.

Or, leaving the husband with the kids two nights in a row - on school nights, so I can hang with my lady friends.

Or seeing shoes and coveting them. This is one I should confess for every day.

Or watching "The bachelor" while cooking dinner because I really like to make fun of those poor, pathetic women. It's a highlight of Tuesday nights.

Or, for sometimes wishing I could skip mass and take a nap. I'm very, very excited to be able to start going to the 5:30 mass again. Noon is a wicked weird time of day to go.

Hmmm... Tough choices.


Anyway...
As I sit here feeling like I've run 40 miles this week, and have done a pretty spectacular impression of Lance Armstrong... Oh wait - I did do that. There is a reason for my quads to feel trashed, and my booty to need a soft place to rest itself. I'm sure the Husband could come up with a few reasons as to why I need to get off said booty and clean the house... but he's not here and we won't try - will we?

So I'm going to blog. I'm not sure how this will help my poor, aching quads but I suppose if you don't try you'll never know. If this doesn't work - there's always yoga.

Saturday, Braxton had his first school program. The kid is not shy. At. All. He is the shortest kid in his class, and therefore front row center. This is apparently a good thing, as he is shaping up to be the next Brad Pitt. Only cuter, and much better behaved. Otherwise I'll beat him. (Brad Pitt's mama, where were you during Mr. & Mrs. Smith?)

I just read this post from top to bottom. Random. I'm sure the readers love this kind of stuff... only not.

But, It's what came out and there's a smell in my kitchen that I absolutely can't find. No joke... Something is rotting and I can't find it - I've searched the pantry, the fridge, taken out the garbage, cleaned the can, rinsed the disposal with an orange, and gone through all the cupboards. I'm about to call Ghostbusters, because something has died and I'm sure it's haunting me.

It's horrible. And probably one of the reasons my husband would have to get me off my booty and cleaning vice blogging.

Durn, we weren't going to try and come up with those reasons were we?

Another reason Sarah = fail.

Have a good day all...