I feel like I’m going to barf. Oh wait, my dad reads this blog and wants me to be more tactful. Let me try this again.
I feel that I might, in a ladylike fashion, delicately and politely toss my cookies. Breakfast part deux, Last Meal Remix, the toilet bowl bow-down, pay homage to the porcelain throne. I could go on and on.
I have no idea why this is, though I have many theories. Scariest theory but LEAST LIKELY: pregnancy. More likely theory: not enough protein? Seriously likely theory: not enough calories spaced way too far apart. (Breakfast was at 6:30 and lunch wasn’t til 1.)
One way or another, I am lying on my floor wiggling my fingers to entertain Caden praying I stop feeling like a newbie on a fishing trawler.
As we like to say in my family, pray for me as I pray for myself.