1. Buy Jennifer Weiner's book that comes out today.
2. Purchase an iced Ventinonfatsugarfreevanillalattenowhip.
3. Kill two-birds-with-one stone by combining numbers 1 and 2 at beloved B&N, save myself a trip, and 15 minutes of my day.
4. Finish up the last quarter of the amped-up version of 40: where proverbial main character is in tree with snakes, while water breaks, and she goes into labor, but some evil nemesis below is throwing stones at her and her contractions are coming faster and faster, and there's no one there to help get her down from that tree, and now the snakes are crawling all over and getting closer to her, and are you feeling sorry for this character yet?
Do you care what she's up against?
Do you care if she will deliver her baby only to have the snakes unlock their venemous and starving jaws and eat the baby live? If so, then I'm on the right track!
Yeah, I gotta finish it Tuesday. Or die trying.
5. Lose thirty pounds.
6. Send Tukey to his first day of junior kindergarten, and no worries, I will not be crying because of this, only crying because number 5 is unaccomplishable at this point.
But it will be Tukey's third year at this preschool, so he's BMOC, or Big Man on Campus. And forgive me Blogther, for I hath sinned. I did not blog at all about my little Tukey turning FIVE on Saturday. Bad mommy, bad, bad, bad mommy!
There were a couple interesting things to note about the day though, the first being when he awoke, he came into my room, and said, "I don't want to be five. I want to still be four, and your little baby."
Me too, honey, me too. I don't like that my baby is five. Five is harder than 35 was.
And another point in the day, I asked him, as I often ask my kids: "Do you have any questions you want to know about life?"
His answer: "Nope. Everything is perfect."