Tonight I have to get in my car, drive two feet forward so I can open the hatchback, haul out the giant jogging stroller and bring it up the stairs, then bring about five loads of baby stuff down the stairs and try to cram it into the trunk for donation to a children's hospital tomorrow. I feel good about purging the 1-6 month clothes and stuff. We all know this isn't happening again, so no regrets. And unlike with Bobby I'm actually digging this six month switch (remember the massive freak out at this point with Bobby? The donut and the shame spiral? Not this time, baby!). Theo is all but sitting up, does his baby plank daily, and is seconds away from crawling. And I'm loving it. The glass-half-full version of Theo growing up is we're that much closer to the boys being able to entertain each other.
In business news, my old floor guy finally called, and we're on for next year. Ironically I went out dancing last night and saw and danced with this year's floor guy. We were perfectly friendly and acted like nothing happened. Which means I'd better re-write the somewhat angry Dear John letter I drafted to him. I really need to keep things friendly if I'm going to see this guy all over town.
My finances are in the toilet. I freaked out about it an hour ago but have decided there is nothing I can do about it so I'd better not let it get to me. Life is expensive with two little kids, period, a lot more than I thought. I may need to go into debt to stretch my money but that's ok - I did it last year and got by, this year I'll actually have less debt. And hopefully after Feb 1 I won't have to play this game anymore.