So. Still doing Atkins. Still up one pound from my original weigh-in- my STARTING weight.
Grrrrrrrr. I gave up mint chocolate chip ice-cream cake for THIS?!
In other news, I have a sink full of dishes, and a hell of a lot of stuff to clean up. This is because we are eating every meal at home (see above re: Atkins) and I feel like I am always either cooking or cleaning up.
The Man, to pacify me, made omelettes the other day. He got very creative and used pastrami, but hey, as long as I didn't have to cook, I didn't really care. The omelettes were so huge, we ended up plastic-wrapping both plates and eating the rest for lunch.
Then he sweetly offered to clean up. Which he did, in a sense, although I was slightly miffed to see that he'd just dumped both plates into the sink without bothering to rinse them, and with the cellophane still attached. And then put a whole bunch of nasty stuff on top of them.
Trust me- digging through sink sludge for stray cellophane (say that 5 times fast!) doesn't do a lot to improve your mood.
The last few days have been interesting- I actually went outside (!) and headed over to my aunt & uncle's new house- to see the house, as well as my cousin and his wife and kids, whom I haven't seen in about 2 years. The little girls were both in my wedding, and they have gotten so big!
The highlight of the afternoon was my other cousin's son, who is about 3 1/2. When I came in, everyone said hi to me and hugs were distributed.
Cute little curly-haired boy- "You're not Jenna!"
Me- "Really? Thanks for letting me know. Who am I, then?"
CLCHB- "You're JENNIFER."
Me- "Am not!"
CLCHB- "Are too!"
Me- "Ok. Well, come and give me a hug anyway."
He runs to me and I scoop him up, and he declares, "I love Cousin Jenna!" Then he gave me a magnanimous pat on the boob. Granted, he is breast-fed, but it was a little unexpected.
A friend of mine from college was also in town this week, with her 4 1/2 month old son, who is ADORABLE, and who sweetly slept though dinner at P.F. Changs without a peep. I managed to convince her to let me carry him the next day, when we went on our excursion to Ancient Pathways (yarn shoppe extraordinaire!) and he flirted and smiled obligingly at everyone.
Then I was holding him, I felt this odd pressure, and then- yikes! The little guy (also breast-fed) had just sort of latched on like a little lamprey, and I had to figure out how to carry him facing outward for a little while.
After some discussion with The Man, we decided that there's a tractor beam somewhere in the vicinity of my cleavage.
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