Crap, I�m sore. My back, shoulders and knees feel overused. Waiting tables works you hard (and for the record 10% is not an acceptable tip for excellent service). I am not sure how people manage to be so oblivious as to smile and rave about your good service and then leave a 8 dollar tip for a 77 dollar bill. It�s mind blowing. The worst part is I called it at the beginning of the seating (they just looked like non-tippers, don�t ask what they look like just suffice it to say that a waitress knows). A lot of hard work for next to nothing. Could be worse they could have stiffed me (don�t scoff it has happened).

So here I sit all sore, having fed my Baby Boy now sleeping beside me, and avoiding the completion of the plumbing project. I ran out of copper pipe yesterday and the replacement my Darling brought home was the wrong size (not his fault we both thought the grade was L turns out it is M). Of course the pipe didn�t fit and so I was forced to leave early for work so I could stop off at the L store and pick up the proper size pipe. Today I�m supposed to finish dry fitting and then sweat the pipe which should allow my Darling to start up the unit tonight when he gets home.

This week is our no crossover week. By the time he gets out of work I will be on the way to my job which forces us to use his sister as a drop off, pick up point. Last time we had to do that Baby Boy didn�t even get out of his car seat (he was sleeping soundly and you know the rule, never wake a sleeping baby).

Did I mention I was really sore? I will celebrate (?) a birthday this month. I am turning 44. Not the oldest living new Mom but uncomfortable with the prospect of being the oldest Mom in the PTA. For my birthday this year I have decided to subtract 10 years from my birth date. From now on I was born in 1973. Not only will that change make me compatible with other Moms it will bring me closer to My Darlings age. He will turn 30 next year and the reality of that still slaps me from time to time. Seriously, I just hope my age doesn�t make Baby Boy more embarrassed than is normal for a teenage boy. Of course I am projecting far into the future, a future that will never be since experience tells me no matter what you plan or how you envision it the future unfolds completely different from the imaginings in your addled brain (well, MY addled brain).

I have just until my breakfast is finished (breakfast burrito, yum) to complete this post and then I can procrastinate no longer (I sense a pattern here, procrastination as a way of life). Everyday I use this place (the internet in general and this place specifically) as an excuse to delay my responsibilities for an hour or two (or three even). This morning I shopped for Christmas to send suggestions to my MIL for My Darling and Baby Boy. For myself I have no idea (I would like a good coffee maker or a gift certificate to a book store, it�s been ages since I bought a book).

Only a couple of bites left�(actually it�s only one bite but I am stretching it because I�m not done here.)

I have considered staying up after Baby Boys night time feeding to write a bit (NaNoWriMo ticking away as it is) but I�m so tired I practically doze off with Baby Boy at the end of his bottle. It seems like so long ago that he was so tiny and in my arms for the first time. It�s hard to believe that he was born two months ago today. Just two months old and so very big. I can still stare at him while he sleeps and awe and wonder. I suppose that will stay with me for the rest of my life. My Mother says she still experiences that feeling about me. Awe and wonder at the idea that we humans reproduce so wondrously and love so deeply the gift of life.

Yesterday was my lunaversary of my quit. I have been quit for 4 years 5 months. January is 4 years sober. Quite the transformation.

Despite the rule (never wake the sleeping baby) I just can�t resist stroking his poofy cheeks and now I must live with the cranky consequences. Baby Boy is awake and I have plumbing to do, sigh, no rest for the wicked.

I wish you Peace

~alison~

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