...what does E mean???

...feeling sick...need to call doctor about rattling/wheezing in my chest.  Yuk.

TOM came for a visit today.  I hate TOM.

Yeah, TOM is {time of month}.  Really, TOM is a bother.  An unnecessary nuisance.  I am finished having kids.

Pretty bold statement.

But it's true.  I don't want any more kids.  I am crazy about the one I've got.  I love him more than life itself.  I love kids in general, I just don't want any more. 

My mom had my brother (kid number five) when she was my age.  I don't think I could do that.  I am too tired.  I feel too old.  Big Daddy is 45.  That means if we had a baby, he would be 63 when that kid graduated high school.

It wouldn't be fair to the child if I were to have a baby at this point in my life.

Wow.  That kind of came from left field. 

My original blog post was going to be a b*tch session about Gymboree making so many of their clothes for little boys with white sleeves, white collars and white cuffs.

Really.  Have you ever had to wash a white-collared Gymboree rugby-shirt the day that the barbecue rib sandwich was served in the school cafeteria???

Maybe I should pay attention to the school lunch calendar before I lay out Little Man's clothes.

Yeah, but the whole TOM rant is more along my mood and frame of mind this evening.  I feel icky.  Oh so icky.

Oh, I went to weigh myself this morning...the support group (oh wow, I just admitted to joining an online SUPPORT GROUP!!!) the group swapping diet/exercise/Disney tips on Facebook (yes, you can find a group for EVERYTHING on Facebook) weighs in on Fridays.  So, I step on the scale to get a start weight.

I get "E".  As in error.

Or as in elephant.

I think I am too big for our bathroom scale.  Big Daddy says it happens to him every now and then...it takes a few times to get a reading.  It is a cheap scale.

I think he is pretty good at enabling me, as well.

I think the "E" should be a sign.  A big, fat sign.

Love to All.