Empty bed = the dream.

We've finally managed to get our children out of our bed at night (at least for the first few hours), but what that means is that we now have to "snuggle" until each of them falls asleep. And Kendrick is fun, so they don't fall asleep with him, which means that after he's done being the cool parent I have to be the "GO TO SLEEP" parent, and which also means that I spend about an hour and a half every night of my life snuggling trying desperately not to fall asleep in toddler beds (because toddler beds are extremely bad for grownup necks, and also because I am seriously behind on American's Next Top Model).

I don't always make it; there is many a night that I wake from a dead sleep and realize that I'm crunched up in 1/8th of a 3-foot-long bed with a baby foot planted firmly in my eye socket (which was sealed shut with makeup anyway because I hadn't been planning to actually pass out). And the reason why this happens with such frequency?

Yesterday afternoon I had all sorts of elaborate post ideas percolating and was just about to sit down and start writing, except then a massive crew of men and machinery arrived to destroy my driveway and replace it with a series of ten-foot-deep holes (but not before charging me $3,500.00 for the pleasure!). And my plans changed. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about re: the $3,500.00 disaster, oh please go to my Snapchat.)

And this morning I have a follow-up appointment at my dermatologist to determine whether or not the large and creepy rash on both of my feet means that they're about to fall off, or whether I might just be in the need of some extra-strength cocoa butter.

If how the last appointment went is any indication, I'm in for an exciting morning.