This belly of mine wants to get in and do everything. This includes making peanut-butter rice krispie squares. I was ALMOST done, seriously, I had the spoon two inches from my mouth, and what do you know? A little morsel of krispie sticks to my shirt. No warning. All of sudden it's there.
My belly has even become a target for any squirting foods. Peach juice, on my shirt. Ketchup, on my shirt. And let me tell you, that stuff stains if you don't get it off soon. Learned that one the hard way. I was even husking corn a few days ago and got corn spit on myself. Ummmm... someone needs to learn the direction for spitting and not use my belly as target practice. Because, number one, it's too big to be called an accurate target. It's like hitting an elephant with grape. Easy peasy. Now, if it were more like hitting a moving cheetah with a bowling ball, now that would be an accomplishment. See the difference?
I've found that it's easier to "fold" and put away laundry when you're doing a load a day. Leaves you with only like 3 things to stuff in the drawers that I thought I had emptied out a few weeks ago. Turns out they're full, again. Weird how clothes accumulate when you shop at DI and find some awesome steals.
But all the water! I am sorry in advance to all of the water-dwelling animals. Our old washing machine only has one setting. Full. And only one temperature. Burn-your-fingers-off-hot. It's a sad thing watching my couple of t-shirts swimming around in more water than I use when I shower. Hey, there's an idea. Just throw my shirts in the tub while I am shampooing my luscious hair. Step on them a few times and squish them against our feet pokers. Out feet pokers are actually supposed to keep you from slipping in the tub, but they're so old they poke. And they're so old they won't come up. So they are feet pokers. Gotta try this.
You could wear an apron/bib all the time-or one of those "dusters" like Grandmas wear! haha Oh the wonders of being pregnant!
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