I came home today to new shoes waiting on the porch. There is no greater demonstration of God’s love than that first whiff of leather as you rip open the package and the invoice (declaring that your total didn’t even crest the $10 mark!) falls out.

People, I may actually clearance shop in my sleep. I didn’t even remember ordering. But they came and they’re adorable and they fit and it’s not even real money when they’re that cheap, so can I please get an AMEN? Amen! Thank you. Now you should totally call me up and invite me out–doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just a chance to get out, you know–so I can show off my new shoes.

See? I’m back!

I am slowly reacquainting myself with food. At first I didn’t eat at all, then I ate nothing but bread and crackers for a couple of days. Today I had (small quantities of) real food again. I did find myself falling into the post-lunch-full-tummy-stupor this afternoon, but that was okay. Stupor? No problem! I will take stupor over crouching in the bathroom praying for death any day of the week. Plus, getting sleepy with food in my stomach is something I’ve experienced before without it making me whimper. I declared lunch a success, once I woke up from the short nap I was taking at my desk.

And since that went so well, I had some dinner tonight. And nothing bad happened, so I decided I could go to the next logical step. Because first you stop consumption until things, uh, settle down. Check. Then you go to liquids. Check. Then you try simple carbs. Check. Then small portions of normal foods. Check. And then, half a bag of “Uh-Oh!” Oreos. Check!

Understand, I earned those cookies, today. New shoes aside, I had a rough day! It’s hard, being me.

First, I set myself up for abuse all day long at the office. Because I am a moron. You see, I wore jeans to work today. As I so often do. But these jeans? I had worn once before (since washing). Nothing wrong with wearing a pair of jeans twice, right? There is nothing wrong with that.

UNLESS you wore the jeans in the company of a dog, and then you go into the office and one very sweet and very stupid Mountain Dog becomes convinced that if only he could somehow shove his nose along your legs long and hard enough to actually penetrate the denim behind your knees, he could FIND that other dog and PLAY WITH IT or maybe EAT IT.

Hey, wanna crack a joke about how maybe I SMELL? Go ahead. No, really, I don’t mind. I’m sure you would be THE VERY FIRST PERSON to do that. And it would be REALLY FUNNY. Know what makes a unique joke like that extra super funny?? Hearing it with doggie nose slobber all over your pants! Yes.

So that was work.

At home, we had a typical evening. I cooked a dinner that everyone complained about (well, not me) and was treated to 101 reasons why it would really be preferrable to have crunchy hair and black fingernails rather than take a shower. Eventually everyone was fed (sort of) and clean (mostly) and we settled down to read together. We’re up to the last Little House book, and tonight I had to explain the words “beau” and “courting.”

After Monkey was tucked in, I sat on the edge of Chickadee’s bed and asked her what she thought would be good things to look for in a beau, or boyfriend. “For ME?” she giggled. No, no… what did she think MAMA should look for?

“Well, he should be intelligent,” she answered. (I swear to you my 7-year-old said this, in all seriousness. It may be what saves her life in the teenage years, when I look back on this and remember how my heart swelled to realize I gave birth to… myself.)

“Is that all?” I asked. She nodded. “How about… should he have a flashy car?” She giggled and shook her head. “How about money? Should he have PILES and PILES of money? THAT’s important, right??” The giggles continued, interspersed now and then with a small snort. “Oh! I know! He should have COOL TOYS!”

“MAMA,” my girl finally interjected. “All of those things don’t matter.”

“Are you sure?” She nodded. “How about I find myself someone who’s REALLY MEAN, then?” She sighed, and put a hand on my arm.

“MAMA. First, he should be intelligent. Also, he should be nice.” Now it was my turn to nod. “And,” she continued, “it would be good if he had a kid. Or two. For us to play with. Okay?” I think I gave her an extra big hug and a few extra kisses tonight.

And then I sniffed my new shoes and ate a lot of cookies.

Yep. Same as it ever was. Right?

Don’t answer that. Here; have a cookie.