Mother Tucker

I’m sitting in front of my computer . . . the boys are sleeping, or should be anyway, and I’m tentatively “clocked out” for the evening. The “clocked out” bit gets easier as they get older and fall into nice little structured routines.

I did well today, diet wise, keeping it well under my calorie goals and worked out hardily in front of my tube to crazy blond Aussie and really really happy ab jam lady. She is pumped about abs! Not sure why the walk didn’t work itself into the picture, except the boys were crabby this afternoon and I didn’t feel the gumption to fight them into the stroller and make the best of it. That, the stroller bit, does not get easier as they get older. Bummer.

But currently I have a gigantic bowl of popcorn . . . I’d like to take this moment to thank my friend, Sarah, for creating an addiction to popcorn out of her generosity to buy me kernels once. Since I have been unable to resist a scrumptious bowl of popcorn . . . bowl is used loosely, as it more resembles a barrel than a bowl.

Nope, not ice cream, not chocolate, not even the whip cream and strawberries I bought on purpose as a ice cream substitute . . . nope, its the salty goodness of the popcorn.

Thank you, Sarah!

Thats really all I wanted to write about . . . making sure credit for the obsession is placed on the correct person, wouldn’t wanna confuse anyone. And I definitely couldn’t take personal responsibility, I’m American!

God Bless!