is in need of a doctor. Not that a doctor could do anything for it.

Last night I was hot and tired so I decided to treat myself to a pedicure. I got out the nail polish and the toe seperator and got comfy on the couch. I put the toe seperator between my toes in ann attempt to not get nail poish on my other toes, then realized that I had to pee.

I hop up from the couch, take one step, and WHAM! I rammed my foot right into the coffee table leg. I knew as soon as I did it that I probably broke it.

Since the toe seperator had my little toe spread out from the others when I kicked the table leg it was bent even farther to the side than normal when kickiing a atble leg.

Within ten minutes the space between my pinky toe and it’s neighbor started to turn a lovely shade of purple. Shawn thinks I just bruised it, but I’m sure it’s broken.

After walkng on it at the grocery store tonight with my Mom (I used the cart to help keep pressure off of it) it turned a more noticeable shade of purple. Enough that both my parents said go sit down and put your foot up.

I’ll try to get photos tonight, but I can’t promise anything. I wasn’t even able to finish 7days with everything that’s been going on.

The worst part about the whole thing is that SuperChic knows that I can’t run after her.

The last two weeks have totally kicked me in the behind, and every time I try to stand up it just knocks me down again.

You’d think that I’d just stay down for a little while and let things setlle, but no, of course not. That’d be to easy.

I ended the week looking like this.

I’ve started the new week (it’s only Tuesday so it still qualifies, even though I’m writing this on Wednesday, technically) with this.

And now I look like this.

Tomorrow is another day. Lets hope I can keep it all together.

Oh, and that Shawn doesn’t kill me for this.

She has frozen lemonade. Though she did have about five tablespoons of my margarita before we made her this drink.

I couldn’t resist.

Could you?

For the last two weeks I have tried and tried and tried to sit down and write a post, but one thing would lead to another and the next thing I knew I didn’t have a coherent thought in my head.

If you don’t believe me you should see some of my recent tweets. They have no punctuation and way too many misspellings. If it weren’t for the red squiggly lines showing up in this post you’d swear I flunked English in school.

I have spent the last few weeks doing a whole lot of nothing. I go around and around and around but nothing seems to be getting done. Shawn accomplished more in a few hours alone by himself last week than I did the entire week he was home. Well, to be honest, he was only really active on that one day, but still. He took care of something that we’ve been needing to deal with for over a year. A year people. I think we win the title for “World’s Best Procrastinator.” Don’t you?

God must have been laughing his head off when Shawn and I got together. You’ve heard the saying “opposites attract.” Shawn and I are soooo not opposites. We both hate doing the same things. This does not make for a neat and tidy house. I’m hoping that my girls will grow up to be the opposite way. Sadly though I don’t think they will. It is a vicious cycle that I am trying to break. So far unsuccessfully.

Those of you watch my Flickr feed you know that my attempt to not gain any more weight has also been unsuccessful. For those of you who don’t, see photo below. I am at 160-165 pounds and am only 5′1″. That number is so high it’s scary. I want to lose weight, I want to get in better shape, but I have no uumph to get going. You’d think that being able to see my toes and keep up with my girls would be enough motivation, but no, it’s not. Now, once I get going on something, as long as I don’t screw it up in the first week, I can keep doing it. It’s the getting going that’s hard for me.

When people see me they don’t think I’m fat, they just think I’m pregnant. This photo shows why. I carry almost all of my weight in my belly. I hate my belly, but I am also proud of my belly.

I am not proud of it’s shape or size. I am proud of it’s scars. Scars that I earned by being pregnant six times. Scars that with each pregnancy grew and grew. With Rapunzel they were about half way between my bikini line and my belly button. With Ashley, they creeped up to just over my belly button. With SuperChic, well, SuperChic made them meet in the middle. She was a big baby.

When I look at my belly now I remember what it was like to be pregnant with my girls, and I don’t mean because of the shape and size of it. I mean because of the scars on it. When I look at it I am both ashamed and awed. I’m ashamed of how I’ve let myself go, but I’m in awe of what my body did. Those scars are a reminder of when my girls were babies and just how small they really were.

I know I will never be able to wear a bikini again, even if I do lose the weight and I am fine with that. I don’t want a bikini body. I just want a body that makes me feel like me again. If I ever manage to lose all the weight or even most of it my stomach will not be flat. I will forever have a baggy belly. My stomach is like Sooki’s from the story The Saggy Baggy Elephant. It’s how it’s supposed to be.

Maybe someday when Shawn doesn’t have to work because my blog will support us I can have a tummy tuck to fix it. This is not an option I would consider if a) I hadn’t lost and kept off the weight and b) I wasn’t in shape. If I mange to have all three of those things happen and it’s still all flabby and saggy I think I have the right to a tummy tuck.

Ok, I know some of you don’t actually read anything that is posted on a site unless it has an immediate effect on you. So don’t read below the warning unless you want to feel a little old ok?

I knew this day would come. June 13 (41 days from today) will place me exactly 6 months away from being 30. (That means I am 7 months and 10 days away now). I am ok with this. Being 30 does not scare me. It does not make me “old”, it doesn’t change anything.

This is probably because I do not look like I’m almost 30. Most people usually think I’m about 25 or 26. When they see Rapunzel they don’t think she’s almost 10, they think she’s 7. It is hereditary.

In high school my Mom came to pick me up early, they told me my sister was there, I do not have a sister. (Well I do, and she’s great, but I didn’t then. To say I was confused is an understatement. It was in fact my Mom, who is only 16 years, 9 months, and 6 days older than me. So in all reality it could have been my sister. But it wasn’t.

This happens a lot. I know it is a good thing. Maybe if I can actually loose the extra 40-50 pounds I am carrying around, I won’t look like a “pregnant Mommy”, and I’ll look even younger!

Maybe I won’t feel old. Maybe I’ll feel, vintage.

You see, old is yucky. Vintage is cool. I would much rather be “vintage”, wouldn’t you?

Apparently my childhood now fits into the vintage category. That makes me laugh. Does that make things from when my MIL and FIL were growing up antiques? (No I am not saying you are old, Mom and Kedge). I’m just babbling.

***************STOP HERE IF NECESSARY, CONTINUE AFTER BREAK**************

I actually read this today while on my Etsy page.

Here is an excerpt:

“Vintage – This special vintage search returns only items within the Vintage category. This means items with vintage as their first tag (selected from the drop down menu in the listing process). Only items 20 years or older can go in Vintage.”

Did you see that “20 years or older?” That would be 1988, I was almost 10.

**********************CONTINUE FROM HERE*****************

I remember 1988. I watched Alf, had an ALF birthday complete with tape playing talking doll (which I still have the tape and box to also), and cake. Ewok’s, Rainbow Brite, Twink and the other Sprite’s (which I think I have the whole Taco Bell collection.), and the Garbage Pail Kids. The Dodgers won the world series with Oral Hershiser at the mound, and we went to Sears or Penny’s to get the t-shirt.

When did this happen? Apparently I wasn’t looking when it did. But that’s ok.

Maybe I can make some money on it. Because we all know that these items are worth about a billion dollars. So I should be able to sell them quickly, easily, and never work again from the profits.