Too much to write

There are too many things I could write about today:

1. My dream about Jimmer Fredette; or about how I am jealous of him—not his skills, just the husband’s attention to him. One word: bromance.
2. Waking up to watch Atrain wobble off balance down the hallway, wondering if he would soon start puking, praying that he wouldn’t, and loathing myself for not doing more research about vertigo and LVA last week.
3. Maybe I’ll write about how we showed up an hour late at the in-laws for dinner to see a perfectly set table with a NCAA themed dinner (complete with orange jell-o basketballs and basketball shaped meatloaf), and about how I didn’t even remember that I forgot the green beans until we got home tonight.
4. I could write about being the potty hover mother at church and at the grandparents’ homes, or how Allerina literally scared the Pee out of Atrain when they were playing “monster in the closet;” and how he decided to get in the tub, fully cochleared and clothed at Grandpatty’s home while I was trying to help with the dishes; and about how I broke down into tears in front of the in laws thereafter.
5. I could write pages about my dad’s bbq steak. He really needs to teach me how to make meat taste like chocolate. That is, after we own a grill. That is, after we live somewhere that can accommodate a grill. MMmmmm.
6. I probably won’t write about my family fears and complaints that had me sobbing to my sister, Bambie. I hate it when I feel selfish.
7. I could revisit my regrets that resurfaced as I saw the pictures of P-diddy and Famous’ recent beach-side excursions; I had a six month window of exploration in Hawaii with the husband and I blew it with 21 credit hours and a part time job. Oh well. I loved my undergrad degree.
8. Perhaps I’ll write about the ride home that went from 60 to 120 minutes of the husband fishing for my true feelings in an ocean of frustration. Thank heavens the I-15 corridor was closed and the husband is always open to long drives and discussions. He is much more patient with me than with treacherous traffic. What a good man.

Or maybe I’ll just go to bed.