Last night I fell asleep with visions dancing in my head of efficient kitchen tidying follow by my confident (if jiggly) self bouncing (ok wobbling) into the gym for a little Monday booty kickin'.
After battling insomnia for THREE HOURS (rackarackafracka*$3@6%!!) and the forth time getting out of bed to help the baby navigate his man cold... I knew... Monday was going to be Braptional instead. That's Bra Optional, to the un-inducted.
So here I am in a T-Shirt that fit me 3 lifetimes ago and a maxi skirt I bought at the end of my last pregnancy because it was the only thing that fit (and that I'm still wearing for the same reason). My almost-3-Teen year old is tossing soggy cereal cubes to his brother under the table. They both have man colds. They keep wiping their snotty noses on the aforementioned maxi, even though I put a box of tissues right in the middle of the table.
Here's the real miracle: I'm loving it.
I woke up, realized my plans were hilarious and gave myself grace to be exhausted and hook up my caffeine IV indefinitely. And I found joy. Grace is amazing. It transforms a disaster into a beautiful blessing.
Now my son is demanding I draw choo choos. Because I have a pen in my hand. So, naturally...
Braptional Out! xoxo