bad bad yoga

It has occurred to me that the busier I am with design work, the less of a basket case I am. So that is good, but I hate being so easy to figure out. Or maybe it is good, it isn't like I have some deep seeded problems that it will take years of therapy to uncover. No. I just like to work. Could be worse. So that said, the last week I have been a worker bee, leaving less time to be tortured by my children. Okay, torture is a strong word. Think of something milder, and that is probably right. Not that mild. Okay, better.

Today was not a lot different, ran to work for a few hours. Learned something new about a software that I use, love that. Got home and for some reason, decided to work out. Well this workout came on the heels of a yoga class that about killed me. I mean I was laying in bed last night thinking I am so exhausted that I may die from yoga. Has anyone died from yoga? I am not sure, but I am convinced that last night I was on the precipice.

So workout today, and fully realize that I am not yet recovered from initial workout. I am smoked. I fit the kids with drinks and snacks and show and head up to my bed. I lay there just resting. I can't sleep, you never know what kids will do when they are awake and you are asleep. It can be very bad. Heh heh.

Enter Holden.

Mom
Yes honey
someping just happen when I take cheese to have a snack at table. make mess.
cheese?
yes
cheese for popcorn.
he thinks for a minute. no.
I think for a minute. cheese from the fridge?
yes, someping just happen (this is where he throws up his arms like, beats me mom, don't know how this happened. I would also like to note that this child loves the work JUST. I am guessing that if he says JUST he thinks it is less of a big deal. Me just eat penny. Me just use marker on wall, you know, no big deal)
what happened? this could be bad, he must have found the cheese we sprinkle on popcorn and has once again dumped it all over the table...
you come down now
okay, I will come down

we walk down the steps. he brings me to the kitchen table.

Well apparently in some languages cheese actually means raw EGG. From what I can decipher from the cheese story, my darling was looking for a hard boiled egg to eat. Naturally he grabs the first egg he sees and cracks it.

He realizes that one wasn't really working and that maybe he should go to the PLAYROOM and try another egg in case that one might work. Well no luck with that one either...

Okay, I am blaming the yoga.