Number seventeen! Come on down front, lucky number seventeen! Also known as Astarte! Sorry it took me so long to get the results posted- crazy, crazy last few days with end of soccer camp, family obligations, swimming party, etc. I know, though. Everybody's summers are busy. It's no excuse to be neglecting the ole blog so blatantly.
In regards to the contest, I just have to give an honorable mention to Kelsey, who, in the first comment, guessed my nephew Luke's name correctly! So Kels, you will also be getting some little prize, because that is just psychic! I had goosebumps.
I have no idea what these prizes will consist of, honestly. Perhaps I'll send you every single Barbie or Disney Princess related item in our home, just so I don't have to look at its cloying pinkness anymore! Or maybe you'll be the lucky recipient of Addy's Lil' Iguana Safety DVD, which she adores but which scares the living crap out of me, and not in the way that it intends.
I am lame and tired, lately. I'll think of a topic to post about, but by the time I drag myself online, it is gone, and in my head nothing remains but swirling visions of ice cream, the sofa, and reruns. I sure do miss my wit and humor and relatively broad vocabulary. In its place has taken root a sort of contented, almost drugged-up sleepiness, a jumble of mental post-it notes, and the always nagging priorities, "Get Adelay potty trained (for the love of all that is holy!)" and "Get Eli sleep trained (can't have another baby while you're still getting up to nurse the last one!)"
Not that I am pregnant. But it is an ever-constant thought, the spacing of the next hypothetical baby. Also constant is the fear that I cannot HANDLE a next baby, no matter when it might come. But I still want one. Ah, the greedy, irrational heart, right? Always grasping for more even when both its hands are full.
On potty training- have I already asked for advise? What's that, you say? MULTIPLE TIMES already, I have asked? Well, then. I won't mention how tonight I was reading Addy a lovely bedtime story about ballerinas in pink fluffy tutus, and at the end, when I asked her tenderly if she wanted to dance someday like the girls in the picture, she smiled just as tenderly at me and announced, " I POOPED!"
Nope, I won't even mention it.