That's My Monkey

When I was a kid, my mom used to comb my hair with her fingers to calm me down. It was such a sweet and simple gesture but it always made me so happy to lay my head in her lap for my treatment. I haven't asked her to do it in years but just the thought of it now makes me feel better. My husband loves having his back scratched. I even put it in my wedding vows that I would give him a scratch at least once a day (he usually asks for one every hour). This evening, when I was putting Mr. Monk to sleep, I kissed his sweet head, rubbed his little back and wondered what will his soothing vice will be. It hit me hard that I will be the one to comfort him for as long as he needs me. Right now he seems to really enjoy the stomach zerberts, but that might get old when he's in high school.

Man, The Hangover is still funny even though I've seen it at least five times now. Definitely not as funny as the first time but still delivers the laughs. Or maybe I'm just too lazy to change the channel since the Insanity workout kicked my ass tonight. I seriously can hardly move. I feel like we made a deal with the devil and his name is Shaun T. I am sort of maybe kinda starting to see the outline of an ab or two, so maybe all this sweating of buckets is worth it. Perhaps.

When I pump late at night before going to sleep, I always fear that the teenage boy living next door will accidentally see me through one of our windows. Believe me, I keep the shades drawn for his benefit as much as for mine, but I'm still afraid of scarring him for life. Or turning him on. Eek, which would be worse?