Time keeps ticking (2 weeks left!) ...
Can't talk, too busy panicking.
ACK!
Two weeks until the big move starts. Really, I shouldn't be too worried since we got a lot accomplished this weekend (given the fact we also had to run after two monkeys).
But still. Moving across the country. In two weeks.
I might hyperventilate right now.
Our weekend was busy but good. Nate had his one year check-up (although he's not quite one year yet and still clearly a baby) and got a clean bill of health. He showed off his new walking skills (two steps on his own!) to the doc and gave her a running commentary of gibberish while exploring her office.
She said that he's 24 lbs (which is not super big for his age, so I should stop making fun of him) and very, very tall. Like that's a surprise.
We got to experience Taste of the Danforth for like, 10 seconds, but mostly just ran around, packing and organizing stuff. Which is actually a good feeling and should really be done every couple of years anyway (I have a bicycle basket! Who knew?!).
I can't believe we really only have two weeks here left. I have sadly started to give up on the list of fabulous things I was going to do before leaving the city/province (Marineland, Ontario Place, Kensington Market, etc) and now will just be happy if we go to the splash pad a few more times.
The problem is, I just don't care that much. The little part of my mental energy left over after moving stress and childcare exhaustion is all devoted to getting in shape.
Yep, now that I've weaned Nate (more on that later) and he's on a really predictable schedule, I'm finally getting my butt in gear.
Which means lots of exercise and healthy eating. Which sound great in theory but mostly involve me soaked with sweat in our dirt backyard and eating a lot of chicken (which I don't love).
I'm all for slow recovery but wearing maternity clothes after your baby turns one seems like a bit much.
No time for pictures but here's a few I just took. It represents our lives here from 9:15-9:30 almost every morning:
Nathan is devestated that I won't let him type on the laptop:
I hate the world!
Stop trying to comfort me, sister!
Mela has learned the best ways to deal with a tired brother:
Happy again, Nate gets back to practicing his walking skills (it's easier if you hold a marker) and Mela curls up to watch her morning show (Clifford!):
ACK!
Two weeks until the big move starts. Really, I shouldn't be too worried since we got a lot accomplished this weekend (given the fact we also had to run after two monkeys).
But still. Moving across the country. In two weeks.
I might hyperventilate right now.
Our weekend was busy but good. Nate had his one year check-up (although he's not quite one year yet and still clearly a baby) and got a clean bill of health. He showed off his new walking skills (two steps on his own!) to the doc and gave her a running commentary of gibberish while exploring her office.
She said that he's 24 lbs (which is not super big for his age, so I should stop making fun of him) and very, very tall. Like that's a surprise.
We got to experience Taste of the Danforth for like, 10 seconds, but mostly just ran around, packing and organizing stuff. Which is actually a good feeling and should really be done every couple of years anyway (I have a bicycle basket! Who knew?!).
I can't believe we really only have two weeks here left. I have sadly started to give up on the list of fabulous things I was going to do before leaving the city/province (Marineland, Ontario Place, Kensington Market, etc) and now will just be happy if we go to the splash pad a few more times.
The problem is, I just don't care that much. The little part of my mental energy left over after moving stress and childcare exhaustion is all devoted to getting in shape.
Yep, now that I've weaned Nate (more on that later) and he's on a really predictable schedule, I'm finally getting my butt in gear.
Which means lots of exercise and healthy eating. Which sound great in theory but mostly involve me soaked with sweat in our dirt backyard and eating a lot of chicken (which I don't love).
I'm all for slow recovery but wearing maternity clothes after your baby turns one seems like a bit much.
No time for pictures but here's a few I just took. It represents our lives here from 9:15-9:30 almost every morning:
Nathan is devestated that I won't let him type on the laptop:
I hate the world!
Stop trying to comfort me, sister!
Mela has learned the best ways to deal with a tired brother:
Happy again, Nate gets back to practicing his walking skills (it's easier if you hold a marker) and Mela curls up to watch her morning show (Clifford!):
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