Holy freakin' crap.
I just wrote out the biggest check of my life. Was it to buy a new car? Or a new house? What about plastic surgery to make me look as scary and wax-like as Joan Rivers?
Theoretically, this check might have covered all three, so big it was.
But unfortunately, it was to my federal government for a little thing we like to call the taxes.
It just stinks. And makes me ridiculously angry.
So I am not thinking about it. Not one bit.
Instead, I am looking over at my babies, happily reading with their damp hair, just out of the shower. I am smiling at the memory of Chase tearing open the brown box from Amazon this afternoon that held a new book - just for him. I am basking in the warm, sweet smell of pancakes, fresh off the griddle because, well, it just felt like a pancake kind of night.
I am looking forward to proofing a lovely newborn session tonight after the kids are in bed. I am remembering how fun it was to hold him during the shoot. I am relishing the tired, sore muscles that got destroyed by the trainer this morning because it means that I worked as hard as I could.
And it just feels so good to work this body of mine.
I am turning up the iTunes on my new favorite song, even though I am late to the party in loving it. As Hannah informed me the other day, "Everyone in second grade has been singing that song for-like-ever, Mom."
Well. Maybe I'll even eat some candy.
[But probably not with the pork and beans.]