I woke up this morning...

dreaming of our new house,
and my trip to San Fran.
AND my kids slept in a bit.
I felt fantastic.
I love mornings like that...
I was full of hope and happiness--
instead of worrying about spending this week alone,
or packing and finding a new preschool,
or having cold feet about getting custody of the 8 year old...
I just felt happy about the good stuff.
and that, my friends, is the whole point.
that is ME.

AND we're taking the kids to his mother's house in about an hour--
so they can go to church with her.
bleh.
they love it--it's something new and different for them.
so i say, eat it up, kiddos.
they get to go next week, too, because she's keeping them all weekend.
yikes, i better watch out or they're going to start insisting we pray or some shit.
anyway, i'm excited to have a few hours on a gray day to just have peace and quiet at home.
yes, this means sex.
like, duh.

I need some new music.
I need some new clothes.
hm...I smell a shopping trip!!
OH!!
AND!!
A friend of a friend is in massage therapy school and needs to practice!!
hallelujah, praise the lord.
could life get ANY better???
she is a sweetheart, too.
she has like 56 kids and is sorta my hero, even if i think she's a loony duck.
(i can barely keep up with 2)
so i'll let ya know how that goes.
because, truly, the only thing better than a good massage (or for that matter even a crappy one) is a good orgasm.

if my son could whine for 5 more minutes straight, he will have broken the world's record.
now comes the tough part--
do I stop him, just to abate the bleeding of my ears?
or do I let him go, and get in the Guiness Book??????
fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
oh lord, he stopped.
he must have sensed that i wanted him to keep going.
ornery little cuss.

guess i'll go make him his god damned hot chocolate.
which he won't drink.
which is why i didn't want to make it.
that's okay.
earlier, i was looking at another blog, and there was a picture on it of some people.
young, pretty people...
and my son pointed to one and said, "that's you, mom."
I said, "no, it's not."
He said, "yes, it is, just with a different face."
OH! I see.

*UPDATE*
There could not be anything better than rolling up in a blanket with a 4 year old.
you flatten the blanket out, and hold him close while you roll yourselves up in a tight little cocoon, then lay there and talk (him telling me that we hide in here from the cat and about how to stick your head out of the coccoon when you get too hot), smelling his sweet/sour little-boy breath, and seeing his big eyes in the soft glow of light coming through the comforter. comforter? yes...the most deeply comfortable feeling in the world. I hope that this is one of those little slips of memory that he will take with him into adulthood...that someday, when he's a 23 year old man, sitting on a train, on his way home from a late night of medical school he'll see something that will spark that scene into his head, and he'll smile. and when he gets home, he'll call me. 23? I'll be 48. gulp. i better still be hot.