Saturday Night. And I feel alright. Party's here on the Westside.

Ok, so that's not exactly how the song goes. And if you don't remember or know it. Shame on you. I mean that! :)

I know. Wait a second. The real shame lies in the already admitted Saturday Night Blogging!

What am I doing? Aren't I young? Aren't I hip and cool? Don't I love to party.

Nope. The answer to all of those is no. I'm not young anymore. I'm definitely not cool. And partying just sounds exhausting.

Let's throw in two kids, a husband, and a baby on the way and that equals: What am I still doing up? It's already 10:30!

Tonight was totally an indulging-the-bun-in-the-oven kind of night. Dinner? Zach's Sweet and Sour Chicken Wings and my Fried Pickles.

Yep that's it.

It wasn't even a well balanced meal. I'm kind of ashamed.

But the baby said Fried Pickles, so that's what the baby got. And let me tell you, I make some pretty amazing fried pickles, dip them in Jalapeno Ranch and you've got yourself heaven!

By the way, not that I even need to say it, but Zach's wings. Cannot. Be. Touched. A-mazing.

The bad thing about Fried Pickles, they don't keep over night, so of course, the right thing to do is finish them off. Right?


What a day. First of all, let me just say, Scarlett is a handful. Literally! My arms are exhausted from dealing with her shenanigans! At dance alone this morning, she knocked over a box of donuts, practically destroyed the trophy from Nationals, stuck her hands into the pop machine and pulled out only God-knows-what-kind-of-goop(I don't mean that blasphemously, I literally mean Only God knows what it was!), stole a package Bubble Tap, ripped it open, tore off a huge piece, popped it in her mouth chewed it twice and swallowed it, had me flashing the entire group of moms whilst I tried to control her and finally threw another mom's(And a crazy mom at that, the kind you don't want to piss off.) cell phone off of the bench, breaking off the protective cover and what I thought would shatter the phone(Thankfully she was able to put it back together!). That all happened in 45 minutes.

Why can't I control her? Oh my.

Although, it turned out that Stella was too easy to control today. And by that I mean, she ended up with a 102.5 degree temperature and a very miserable day. Poor thing. Sick kids are the worst!

I'll tell you what else is the worst, the pangs of jealousy I feel every time I watch a damn commercial for Eat Pray Love. Dang it Julia Roberts. Why are you living my dreams?

And not just her. The author of that damn book. I haven't even been able to make myself read it! I'm too jealous.

Not that I want to have love affairs all over the world, or leave my family, but I would like to travel to all of those exotic places and eat all of that exotic food and meet all of those people and have a seemingly unlimited budget.

I will read it. I won't stay a snob forever. But maybe I'll hold this grudge for a little bit longer. It somehow is making me feel justified. Over who knows what. But all the same. Justified.

And if on cue just to remind me that my priorities start with family and end, far, far, far, far down the list with travel, the baby moves.

Which is fine. Really it's fine. No. Seriously. It's fine.

Besides, I just started feeling the baby move this week and that is really exciting! And the Farm is kind of a new and exotic place. And Salad Master is definitely a New way of eating.....

So see? I have my very own version of Eat Pray Love. Take that Julia Roberts.

Plus, I prefer my Pineapple Express Version of James Franco anyways.


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