France with Carol.

Tonight Fran told me I was full of myself.
And I felt really bad for 4.7 seconds. Because I have been sitting and making Christmas presents like tomorrow is the end of the world. And I did the dishes today. And I went to pick her up from babysitting with Daddy. And I made Tazza cocoa this morning. And I had this dream that I was a very selfless lady when I was older and gave up a lot of things.
I said "I" in my head about 40 times.
She's right.
I am all about myself. Heck, this blog is all about me. How messed up is that? I am so selfish, I blog about me.
I want to go to France. I want 1000 yards of lace. I want a globe. I want to watch Where The Wild Things Are every night. I want a yellow sweater. I want chocolate cake.
I.
Am.
Dumb.

I think if I had a little boy named Bear and a little girl named Madeline, I wouldn't think so much about myself but more about them and want to buy them yellow sweaters and globes.
I think children bring out the best in women.
I think they make them a little less selfish.

I wish I was married and lived in France and had children.
But there I go again. With the I. I. I. I. I.

Bed now. To dream of a future with kids and (even better) someday in Heaven when I won't have to think about me and peonies and boys named "Carol."