Chicago kicked my butt



Because I slipped while disembarking from a trolley car and landed, THUDDDD, on the bottom step. I now have two huge bruises on my tushy. Nice.

Other than my sore behind, the rest of the trip was nice. The snow on Friday wasn’t my favorite part, but we hung out in museums and restaurants, so no big deal. The sun on Saturday emerged and melted it all away.

Oh, and there was the torture of sleeping with my wiggly 4-year-old in a king-size bed. You’d think that would be a decent amount of space for three people. Apparently not. Devin moved the entire night. All over the place. Hands in my face. Feet in my back. Head on my tummy. I think I finally lost it around 4:00 a.m. and tried to push him into Scott. I was fine with sacrificing my husband if I could eke out a little bit of sleep. But every time I turned around, there he was. Haunting me.

We ended up booking another night so we’d be able to come back to the room after our morning excursion and take a nap. Mom and Dad, that is. Because the kid refused to. Lucky for us, he decided to be still the next night. I don’t know who slipped the ants into his pants on Friday, but that person is on my hit list.