So I weighed myself again after work and was down another .6 lbs. I figured that if I could weigh less after eating breakfast, lunch, and two snacks there was something wonky going in the morning. So I took the lower number, and I feel like I stashed some extra monopoly money under the board. I weighed myself again last night and this morning, though, and the number has stayed steady (178.4), so I'm sticking with it, **** it! Enough with the guilt.
We went to the gym last night, and Katie had a diaper explosion at the care center. They couldn't find me right away, didn't think to ask Bobby for some reason (he even dropped her off last night). By the time we got to her, she had diaper rash down her thighs. She hurt to walk, poor bug. She'd try it bow-legged, then just crouch and cry. I felt so bad. I'm trying to decide if I want to complain, but it's cleared up now. I think I'm going to make sure they scan Bobby's card in the future, and that they know to find him. Also making sure he has wet wipes and diapers in HIS gym bag.
The side effect of all that was Katie being extra loving this morning. She's rarely so sweet for more than a minute or two lately. Kisses and hugs and, "Iuh you, Mom!" (I love you in Kate speak.) I did not want to give her over to her daycare lady. Hopefully, she'll still be cuddly tonight. And hopefully the crazy diaper and extra love isn't indicative of incoming sickness.
We're going to be bad this weekend and stay home to play in the Star Wars beta/stress test instead of going fourwheeling with my parents. We are NOT telling them the real reason. So I'm lying to my mom to get out of spending time with them on Thanksgiving weekend. And I only feel a little bad about it. It's also Bobby's birthday this weekend, and he's doing Christmas without a third truck this year. He deserves a weekend of doing only what he wants before the boxpocalypse really starts. He'll be working Saturdays all through December and dead tired Sundays. Christmas at FedEx sucks.
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