My child no longer needs me to actually be physically present when he goes to sleep. He is six, I am aware that this is YEARS past the national average, by probably 5 years or more, but it is still a bit unsettling. The slowly steady-ing (is that a word) of his breathing steadied my breathing and slowed down my random brain. I am finding it hard to go to sleep. I should be reading but those damn crazy housewifes won't let me rest. On the up side, here I am on my blog. Wide awake and full of words.
Speaking of this humble little blog. It is truly humble. I was messing around on the dashboard and saw that I had 66 total views. Julie and Julia I am obviously not. Alas, sigh, and oh well. Do I really want the whole world to see that picture of my kitchen? Probably not. The glass is half full . .
Now for the all too often plea for help . . My husband has BOXES, large overflowing BOXES, of trophies. I have mentioned scaling down (or completely eliminating) these boxes, since they simply sit in the up stair closet of limbo. All such attempts have created 1 of 2 reactions ---the glaring stare of suspected jealousy that I don't have any such trophies and therefore want rid of his, or the why did you kick my puppy pout.
I have suggested that the Special Olympics always need trophies, but to no avail. Any advice/suggestions will be greatly appreciated.
--Thanks in advance Tammy!!!