So when I have weeks like this past one, my body begins to hate me. And when my body begins to hate me, I begin to hate everything. When I get too busy to even eat, its like I become the walking dead. But somehow I push myself through the stress, then when its finally over the bill arrives and I just am not nice. My husband, plus many others, experienced my hypoglycemic event this week. All I can say now that I have caught up on my sleep, and eaten enough calories to make me happy is, I'm truly sorry. Bless your big hearts for being able to laugh it off and realize that when I don't get enough to eat, I am not myself. I promise to try harder to eat more consistently...even if that means frequent pop-tarts, oranges, and bagels.
P.S. we went pumpkin patch picking...pictures to come soon (: