It's Saturday.


Some of us spent nearly the entire day in the same clothes we went to bed in last night (Some of us being everyone except for Jim.  He actually got dressed before breakfast.).

This morning I did stuff like arrange a surprise birthday party for my niece Emily that we'll have tomorrow, swap out sheets on beds, laundry, dig for small toys in the cracks of our couch, watch recorded episodes of 19 Kids & Counting, and rid our refrigerator of things dried on shelves  - all while he took a nap.  

I snapped this photo of him when he finally decided to join the land of the living.

Does that face scream refreshed or what?  Guess mine would too if I had just slept from 8:30am until nearly 1pm.  Must be nice there, Buddy.).

Speaking of this morning, Belle, one of our two four-legged family members, came home from an appointment she had yesterday for vaccinations and surgery (officially out of the doggy gene pool kind of surgery).  She actually skipped dinner tonight, and she's done no more than toddle to and from our laundry room to the grass outside a few times for bladder relief.  In this case, I can definitely say...I feel her pain.

I'm thinking about Father's Day tomorrow and how to tell my husband and my dad how great I really think they are at being dads (It's not really "the thought that counts" in this case, you know? I'm a stickler for telling the ones I love how I feel.), and I'm thinking that I could keep going and tell you about our dinner at Moe's and trip to Target and need to pack a suitcase for Jake because he'll be staying with his grandparents this week and going to Vacation Bible School at their church (Hallelujah!).  But I just looked at Parker's photo again.  And I'm totally convinced now that if I want my face to look anywhere closed to that refreshed and be up the task of making the trip home for Father's Day and a surprise birthday party, I better go to bed.

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