Tuesday Night Rocks the House

My nights are pretty tame. Primetime hits, and I sit on the couch, feeding Carli her bedtime bottle. Violet sits beside me, and we watch whatever I deem safe for her to watch.

Tonight, it was her favorite, America’s Got Talent (love me the guys in the pageboy caps and suspenders…RAWR)…just about the only show I can get her to sit through the entire hour for. Well, the first hour was the one where they pared the contestants down to 40...and I bawled through the whole hour. Then they showed the previews for the new season of The Biggest Loser…and I bawled. (her WHOLE family DIED!!!!) I am fairly sure I bawled through a Sprint commercial. (Their 3G network is SO BIG!)

I need to get out more.

My gypsy heritage affords me many perks…curves no matter how much weight I gain, olive-ish skin that rarely sunburns, the propensity to be the loudest in the room and thus Center of Attention.

However, it also comes with hair. True, the stuff in my head is thick and adorable (I humbly proclaim), but the stuff growing out of my chin is equally thick and not nearly as adorable.

Seriously. I can get up in the morning with nary a hair…and by lunch, my fingers will feel the beginnings of one starting to poke through. And that baby is BLACK and THICK and while that may work for Beyonce, I am not feeling it, yo.

The BEST (insert sarcasm here) is when I am at Target, handing the clerk my debit card, and Jason says, “Reka, you have more facial hair than I do!”

Not that that has happened recently. OH WAIT YES IT HAS.

Carli does not stop moving while she is awake. She hasn’t started crawling, but she can get anywhere on the first floor of my house in less than a minute by rolling her little self at the speed of light. Sometimes so fast she spits up from dizziness.

She’ll climb onto the shelf under my coffee table and sort through my books. She’ll roll under her swing so she can lay on her back and push it with her feet. She makes a bee line (caterpillar line?) for anything Violet leaves on the floor.

Her favorite is the shoes, though.

Living in Canada, then Alaska, for so many years has cultivated a habit of taking off our shoes at the door. This creates a pile of shoes near our front door. Which Carli likes to roll around in.

I came down the stairs this morning (Jason watches the girls when he gets off work so I can sleep till 8), There was Carli, laying on the floor, grin huge, dimples flashing…hugging Jason’s topsider.

That’s my girl.