Sunday: In Bullet Points

It's Sunday morning and I'm not feeling amazing, so am about to go back to bed while the boys are at church.  Sunday has never been my favorite day of the week.  It means the end of the weekend, and I still feel vestiges of "you still have homework to do!" from back in the day.  I also used to have a real guilt on Sundays when I didn't really know or believe in God.  Kind of like the nagging homework feeling, and even though I DO know actually believe in God, there is still this feeling about Sundays I can't shake.

Maybe Monday just looms too large over Sunday.  In any case, here are a few notes about my week and weekend, along with Instagram photos. (I stopped doing my Insta-Kiki series--do you miss it?)

• The boys tried their hand at mural making. 

And by that, I mean they took crayons and drew all over their room.  I've been told a magic eraser will get it off, but I think I may just repaint.  I'm sick of the color anyway.  (Said the woman who has painted almost every room in the house.  Twice.)

• Sawyer and I have proof that we didn't bring the wrong baby home from the hospital. 

The proof isn't in the pudding, but what LICKS the pudding.  Somewhere, Gene Simmons is wondering if I'm actually his love child.  (I'm not, right Mom?)

• Mom and I had a normal day shopping at Target.

I can honestly say that I am happy and proud that this is normal in my family.  What can I say?  We keep things interesting.  Also, I think the Hulk's eyebrows are very complimentary to my eyes.

• Still recovering from the Young House Love book signing.

And the subsequent feast at Central Market after.  I highly recommend the goat cheese and mushroom quesadilla plus the feta and spinach couscous.

• I drank a lot at a wedding. 

 But not what you think.  The first shot is me drinking honey, a last-ditch attempt to sing during the ceremony without having an asthma or coughing attack.  I think that prayer worked more than the honey, though, because on stage was the only time all week I could sing without having a full-blown attack.  Also, I don't remember doing it. (Which again, sounds like regular drinking.)  Someone did ask me if I was doing jell-o shots.

Oh, and just because I plan for worst-case scenarios, I prepared just in case I happened to faint from the combo of trying not to breathe deeply while singing so as not to cough + asthma inhaler.  I didn't want to faint (which is bad) AND flash people (which is worse), so I planned to wear shorts under my knee-length dress.  But the only shorts I had were some kind of Spanx.  Which meant so much discomfort.  Especially when it came to wedding cake.  Boo!  Or maybe it was a good idea, to limit my consumption of free wedding food.  Hm.

The other photo shows me drinking WHAT daintily?  You get to guess.  I'll post the answer below.  If you actually guessed it (honor system) I'll give you a from-afar chest bump, a leftover favorite from derby.

• Speaking of derby, I went to a rules clinic and helped keep score at a scrimmage.  The end result: it is KILLING me to think about not playing again sometime.

It's so much time.  It's so much money.  I have no idea how I'd do it with THREE kids.  But derby is just in my blood.  I keep catching myself thinking thoughts like, "I'll work on that," and "I think I'll try this," and then those thoughts hit the hard reality of:  I'M RETIRED.  I didn't just retire because I'm pregnant--the derby schedule is insane, especially with little kids and limited finances.  I really don't know how I did it for so long.  I can't shake it.  I'll be coaching my team, the Bosses, this next season (YAYAYAYAYAY!) but really I just dream of skating.  I joked that when I'm fifty I'll come back.  And maybe I will.  Or maybe before.  Or maybe I'll just love it from afar and realize I can't possibly balance something so intense with my life.

Nah.  I'll go back.  Someday.

[Answer to what I'm drinking:  tortilla soup, suckaz!  You didn't guess that, right?]