I slept in until 8:30 this morning, after staying up late last night watching a movie. I got up, took my stupid thyroid medicine, and smiled at the kids popping their sleep-tossed heads out into the hall on my way back to bed. I didn't want to be up yet.

I crawled back under the covers and dropped into a weird twilight sleep. I could hear the kids up and about. I was aware that my husband was in and out of the room, and yet I was having the weirdest, most vivid dreams.

I finally emerged, feeling more tired, about an hour later. My stupid allergies have been making it hard, if not impossible, to use my stupid breathing machine nose thing at night, and my stupid sleep apnea is catching up with me again. This bone-weary fatigue will go away if I can just get a few good night's worth of sleep.

It has been a beautiful June. My sister's final surgery went off without a hitch on Friday, and although it was a very long day, I didn't end up having to sleep at the hospital. (Not that I would have minded, but still.)

We've got another 7 weeks of summer before the school rigmarole starts up again. How can we be almost halfway through?

It's a gorgeous day outside, and while my husband and son just left to attend the end of season baseball team party, I'm thinking of taking the girls to the pool. I might actually get into my suit for the first time this year and loll about in the water instead of hiding in the shade, watching the kids boss each other around.

I'm in a weird space, emotionally, about my physically appearance. A year ago, I was more apt to say "eh, screw it" but this year, I'm very conscious of how misshapen my face is from the extra weight I'm carrying. I'm more annoyed by the double, sometimes triple chins that appear, and I'm sick to death of looking like I'm 4 months pregnant. I'm eating well, but always, always, the piece of the puzzle that I need is exercise. A lot of it. Consistent. And I'm not doing it.

I can point to my thyroid woes. I can point to my sleep apnea, both culprits in my weight retention. But the fact is that my weights are gathering cobwebs, and my sneakers haven't been laced on my feet in more than a month. It is becoming crystal clear to me that I'm never going to feel like exercising, at least not right now. I'm never going to want to make time for it.

I've had lots of offers from friends and family to be my workout buddy (something I abhor. I don't like to chat while I'm working out, and I tend to drop into a very meditative state while I'm walking/jogging or lifting weights.) I know once I establish a pattern of about a week solid of daily exercise, the endorphins will keep me at it. So far? I've managed a day here and a day there, but there's always some excuse.

I'm going to hit post on this entry, and then I'm putting on my swimsuit - and rather than lolling about, I'm going to do some pool running, which looks about as stupid as it sounds. I don't want to, not really. But I have to start somewhere.

No one is going to do this for me.