Post About Nothing.

So, unfortunately, I don't spend as much time surfin' the net like I used to...not because I don't have the time but because I choose to go to bed at 8PM on a regular basis.  This is the bedtime I have always dreamed about but never indulged in.  I am a morning person, but due to social norms, for years I have been forcing myself to stay awake at least until the sun goes down.  But having a baby gives you the perfect excuse to do just about anything you want. 

Want to talk about vaginas all day?  Sure.  You just had a baby.  Want to cry for no reason?  Yeah, that's normal.  You just had a baby.  Want to talk about poop and vomit while others are eating?  Why not?  You just had a baby.  Sweating profusely?  It's the hormones.  You just had a baby.  Want to go to bed at 8PM everynight for the rest of your life?  No prob.  You just had a baby.

As a kid, my mom would tell me that I couldn't get out of bed until the numbers on the clock matched this piece of paper she taped on the wall that 7:00.  Unfortunately for me, at my tender age, I didn't know that 6:59 came before 7:00 and that 7:01 came after...so I remember sitting in my bed, staring intently at the clock, just BEGGING the numbers to match and knowing that if I looked away for even a second I could miss 7:00. 

It's the little things that really eff up your kids man.  It's the little things.  She also gave me a phone book and a pair of scissors so I could entertain myself.  I spent most of my childhood cutting up phonebooks.  That's a life skill I have yet to need.

Back to my point.  My original intent was to tell you why I haven't been blogging...which, if you follow the logic, can ultimately be blamed on my mother.  So thanks mom for screwing up my blog.  I'm sure that when you gave birth to me, you were planning on savings lots of money for some serious therapy sessions down the road (for you or me or both) and you had no comprehension of this newfangled virtual world where I would type up my diahrea of the mouth for everyone to read.  I think we can ultimately blame dad for that one though.  I'm sure he had something to do with it.  And if not, feel free to take your angry out on him anyway.  You just had a baby after all (I realize I am 30 years old so the excuse is getting a little tired, but until he capable of pushing a baby out of him, I say just go with it).

Sidenote since my mother has now started reading my blog:  I love you mom.  But all those times you told me I looked terrible in lavender really messed me up.  I don't own a stitch of purple clothing for fear of upsetting the color wheel.  But really, I love you mom.

I wish I had something exciting to write about, but the point is that I don't. 

Mmmmm...Nachos is good for me.

Cooking up a nugget for dinner!

So in lieu of actually writing a post, I started a special savings account for Anna's future therapy, which frankly, I feel that her future self should pay for...but since I am the one who styles her hair that way (because OMG, it cracks me up!), I will do what I can to offset the financial strain of years and years of therapy.  Here's a quarter sweetheart.