Too Pooped to Pop...

So we do a webcam visit with my parents once a week or so. They call them "Ru fixes" and it gives them a chance to see how big Reagan RuXian is growing and her a chance to wave bye bye to people who are certain the sun rises and sets on her pretty little face.

Tonight my beloved parental units commented that I looked "lethargic." I believe that was the description.

I'm holding the wiggliest toddler on the planet whose one mission when she is at the computer is destruction in any form she can muster. Shall I chew on this pad of Post-Its? Can I reach the keyboard and pound it until the N key bounces off and runs for cover under the printer? Will Mommy notice if I color my finger blue with this pen?

Yeah, I'm lethargic. I'm also in survival mode and can't remember the last time I was alone with the exception of part of the drive to work which doesn't count because to be socially acceptable, I have to be dressed for that.

I'm lethargic because Reagan is a flurry of activity. Today we literally spent 20 minutes climbing the stairs and sliding back down. Climb up, slide down. Climb up, slide down. Now, I know I'm the Mommy. I could stop it if I wanted but she's so darn adorable with her little hiney in the air as she climbs and her hand wraps so perfectly around my finger when we slide back down.

I'm lethargic because every morning it takes twice as long to get ready for the library due to my "helper" who wants to brush my hair and carry the toothpaste off...and hide it.

Gee. Just listing this stuff and realizing it's my life makes me MORE lethargic. I hear Reagan squealing downstairs and Danny saying "woohoo" and that's my cue. I'm going to sneak some chocolate-covered raisins and with that boost of energy, go join my family for some more exhausting happiness.