It's 10:30 p.m.

I'm in bed. In my night shirt.

I'm coughing, although I took (sugar-free) cough syrup.

I'm in bed.

I check my sugar.

76.

Crap. I can't go to bed this low.

But I'm already in bed.

I'm tired.

I'm coughing.

Must get up early to go to mass with No. 1.

Can't convince myself to go downstairs and drink a glass of milk.

Because I'm already in bed.

The floor is cold.

I'm coughing and tired.

The milk is downstairs.

My bed is warm.

The kitties are snuggly.

Now would be a nice time to see a trend line.

I took the sensor off five hours ago.

I'm. Already. In. Bed.

Waking in a cold sweat will not be fun.

The milk is downstairs.

My cough medicine isn't working.

Rain is soothing and wants me to go to sleep.

My bed is warm.

The floor is cold.
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I have a confession: I haven't exercised since before Thanksgiving. E-gads! Ugh, and I'm so feeling it. My pants are feeling tighter, I'm more tired, I'm more cranky, it's harder to bend over and tie my shoes, blah, blah, blah.

There are so many excuses I could hand out for this (stress being a big one), all of which would come back to me staying up later (right now it's almost my bedtime and I should be getting ready for bed and not writing, for example) and, therefore, having trouble forcing myself out of bed in the morning. I tried blaming it on my alarm clock, too, but I think even that is a cop out.

I absolutely hate making New Year's resolutions. I can never stick to them and I never have really taken them seriously. I don't really know how to get myself to stick to that kind of goal. (READ MORE)

It was still dark when the baby started fussing this morning. I quietly rushed to her room so that neither her crying nor my footsteps on the creaky wood in our century-old house would wake anyone else.

"Shhh, shh, shh," I consoled as I picked her up, bouncing gently hoping she would think it was still nighttime.

Her pointer and middle fingers promptly went into her mouth and she rested her head on my shoulder. Those baby snuggles are something so wonderful. We quietly walked back to my room where we climbed into bed with The Mr. Who was snoring. As usual.

No. 3 settled fairly well for it being around 6 a.m. I knew I should have counted my blessings yesterday when we all slept until almost 8 a.m.

Listening to the rhythmic snoring and the intermittent sound of No. 3 sucking on her fingers, I started to hear my body talking to me, as well. (READ MORE)