Holy Crap

Well, this morning I got up from a frenzied writing session where I stayed up waaayyy too late, inspired by meeting author, Amy Krouse Rosenthal, and getting her book,
EncyclopediaofanOrdinaryLife which is just fabulous and I'm already never going to think about a Q-tip in the same fashion ever again.

So, I get up because Ajer has come into my room six times to tell me the bus is coming in exactly one-half hour, so he needs to get ready. Get ready? He's got to put on his freaking coat and shoes, grab his backpack and go. I tell him, "Come back at 7:29." I feel like our roles are totally reversed and beg him for "Just one more minute." I scream when he turns on the light. Did your parents do that to you when you were a kid? Now my kid is doing it to me! Not fair! When do I get to be the parent? I tell him he's going to regret this when he's a teenager and I rush into his room, frantically switching on the light and screaming at him to wake up already. I'll tell him, "You like how that feels, buddy?!"

Anyway, I'm thinking about what I'm going to write in MMMM today and I suddenly get an incredible urge for a Thin Mint Girl Scout cookie. Isn't it amazing that I've had the box in the freezer for eight days and I haven't even eaten half a sleeve yet? Now, that is self-control. Except, I just devoured the rest of said sleeve. And, then I realize in horror:

"Today is Friday -- It's WW weigh-in morning!"

So, what's the big deal you ask?

For the past three years, I haven't eaten or drank anything on Friday morning until AFTER I get on that scale.

The whole day is shot. It might as well be Friday the thirteenth.