Love, Cyndi Lauper.
Or umm, me.
It's now 9:21 Sunday night and I survived the most ridiculous, all consuming, challenging, fantastic, exhausting, amazing and terrible time in dance competition mania solo... with a newborn.
2 glasses in, I'm now sitting down to write this newsletter with very little to say other than:
Wait, did that just make like 92 years old?
Do the kids even use that anymore?
What I'm saying is that surviving the insanity of the last few days gave me newfound breath in enjoying the chaos more, and (trying) to sweat the small stuff a little less.
So, here's to finally a sleeping baby, remaining minis deliriously jumping in the pool for a night swim, a husband just now arriving with a cheeseburger the size of my face, and to me for pouring another glass.
Hoping you all are doing the same.
I mean, just enjoying the chaos of your lives...
Well, maybe minus the dance comp mania.
Nobody needs that in their life.
In sweaty gratitude, always,