Miss Noelle was tired tonight. She fell asleep on my lap shortly after supper and remained sleeping and snoring softly after I tucked her into her big girl bed- a rarity. Now the question was: how to keep Dryden quiet so Noelle doesn't wake up (her bedroom is on the main floor, unlike the rest which are up on the second floor.) So I packed some snacks and drinks and took Mister upstairs. He was pouting miserably, stomping his displeasure out with each step up the stairs thinking he was being shipped off to bed. He perked up visibly when we passed his bedroom and continued down the dark hallway. "Oooo Momma's [room]" he said with a smile. I tucked him into our bed with his numerous babies and stuffed dogs (all of whom are unoriginally named "Saku"), put his snacks beside him on the bedside table, and popped in a DVD. I don't even feel the least bit guilty for letting Shrek babysit my youngest for the remaining hour and a half of the day. I, personally, am sick to death of Shrek so I took advantage of some spare time and spare energy - another rarity lately- and tackled part of my To Do List: I finished unpacking our bedroom.
I unpacked and organized my purged hoard of books and put them on the bookshelf and I finally finished unpacking my clothes. But I couldn't stop there. My dresser, closet, and armoire were bulging, threatening to burst the very next time I opened them. Dryden was busy, content to sing along and roar along with Shrek so I tentatively opened that can of worms: I organized my clothes. I put all the stuff that's slightly snug away (I'm the eternal optimist for my post-baby body), piled my sweaters according to color (don't feel bad, I hate me too right now) and unpacked my maternity clothes. I've definitely already dipped into that stash- do not be fooled; however, I was avoiding unpacking the entire box, choosing instead to root blindly around in there and wear whatever I managed to liberate from the box without taking the lid off completely. I purged through my assortment of shoes as well. A pair of flats, and a pair and a half of sandals (?) didn't make the cut. Their funeral will be held this Wednesday. Please, no flowers. And lastly, I went through my embarrassingly large collection of t-shirts. I tossed almost all of my "work" t-shirts (these are splattered with paint, plaster, modge podge, glitter, grout etc), an alarming number of tops that had a hole right at the belly button (they were otherwise fine...weird) and tons of Ts that were clearly too well worn to keep, some weren't even recognizable as usable tops. Am I the only one who keeps T-shirts until they almost disintegrate? Until they are almost...see through? If I'm not, then here's a shout out to all my other t-shirt hoarders...and if I am the only one- please don't judge.
I kinda forgot about Dryden while I was on my mad purge-a-thon. I caught a glimpse of him from beyond the pile of discarded clothes; he was fast asleep under our duvet...drooling on Nick's pillow. I carted him off to his room, making a second trip for all his babies/puppies- I kissed all of them too (I have a feeling Dryden zonked out before he could complete that part of his bedtime ritual) and tucked everyone in for the night.
Tomorrow, I might tackle the linen closet. Or not.