Gutting

I've been feeling extra, super sorry for myself lately.

You know, in case you didn't get that from my last post.

Yesterday I decided I'd better do something to snap myself out of it or we would all be in trouble.

And by that I mean me and my seven personalities, not me and you we.

So, I stayed up until almost 1am this morning thinking of all the things I was going to do (not on purpose, I just couldn't stop thinking about how awesome it was going to be.  And beside, I'd gotten my dirty little paws on Husband's iPad and was playing game after game of solitaire, which has become a brand new game to me since Husband showed me some of his tricks to win almost every, single time) without really leaving the house and definitely without spending any money.

The first thing that came to mind was to finally put Carolyn's crib away.

We converted it into a toddler bed about six months ago, but still, it's a crib.

And we have a perfectly good queen size mattress that's been leaning up against her bedroom wall for the past two years.

But, oh, what a mistake it was to think that putting away a crib would pull me out of my funk.

Instead, it made me despair.

As I was pulling out all of the hex screws, I almost started to cry.

Because my baby is no longer a baby.

And there's not even a baby on the horizon to take her place.

Oh, and there's still nasty spit up in between one of the crib bars from me having the spit-uppiest-baby the world has ever seen.

There are also missing chunks of wood on the sidearms from when Carolyn started teething and chewing on everything.

The tears might have actually started to fall except that right in the middle of my musing, Carolyn jumped on my back and started to strangle me before falling over on her own head and bawling her eyes out.

Then I just started thinking, "Man!  Who on earth gets anything done when they have kids around?!"

Needless to say, the crib is down and semi-neatly stored in the attic.

PS What does it say about me that I think I can lift really heavy things by myself (including a box full of rocks.  Like, for real) up the rickety attic ladder?  Because I almost dropped several things on my head the process and spent half of the time screaming at Carolyn to get out of the way already, I've-told-you-seventeen-times-for-the-love.