Drugs. Equal. Awesome.
I sucked down every home-grown remedy for pregnancy "morning" sickness since Eve got advice from her mother-in-law (think about it), but nothing works like good ole manmade synthesized DRUGS.
Zofran, I worship you.
Now that I finally feel like ME again, I'm getting to all the things that I didn't do during the weeks I didn't feel like me.
(My husband worships Zofran too.)
I picked up the first floor, scoured the bathroom and mopped the hallway this morning - all before 8:00AM. And then I exercised. (I know!) Spent a few hours playing catch-up in Mommy Time. Pretty sure my kids have missed me. Mommy? Playing with us again? Something changed ... she must be cutting our college savings again and feeling guilty ....
And now naptime has arrived and it's time for me to move on to another Project.
What to choose? Hang pictures? Paint? Do another bathroom? Attempt to conquer the storage room? (HA! Good one ...)
Nope. Priority is our CLOSET.
Now, the problem with the closet is that it has a DOOR. And it's HUGE. (The closet, not the door.) You can make a royal mess, close those lover-ly mirrors, and nobody has to know.
Over There, in Brazil, they don't have closets. They have these:
They're called "guarda-roupas" - essentially "place to put away clothes." They're very thin and narrow and don't really lend themselves to piles of "I don't look good in that today" or "I don't feel like putting away those clean clothes right now." Our clothes were pretty much always clean and organized because, well, they had to be. I couldn't run away from it.
Now, however, I have this big beautiful black hole that I can destroy and then promptly turn away from.
(I know I ended with a preposition. It's okay. Breathe. This is English, not Latin. Look it up.)
I'm fairly good at keeping visible rooms clean-ish. After all, we might have visitors and THEN WHAT WOULD THEY THINK?! Our family room/kitchen area RIGHT NOW:
(dang it I should have put away the flip-flops ...)
The nice, shiny sink - FlyLady would be so proud.
Our front sitting room:
And ... brace yourselves for BEHIND THE SCENES BECKY:
Ouch. Ooo. Eeeek.
And yet, I really only have to see this atrocity twice a day. In the morning and at night. Very briefly. It's not in-my-face-disgustingness-that-I-have-to-stare-at-all-day. So, really, it's not my FAULT that it looks decidedly tornado-y. It's the door's fault. I cannot be blamed.
And ... naptime's almost over. Dang it. Looks like it'll have to wait another day. No biggie. I'll just shut the door.