Again, I got all tangled up in real life and didn't post every day like I said I would. Oops. Guess I'm not ready to be a participant in National Blog Posting Month... good thing it's almost over, right?
Today, Llama turns seven months old. Right now the light of my life is bouncing in her jumper because that's one of the only places I can keep her contained. She wants to eat the Playstation wires. I guess we all want stuff, right?
Speaking of wants, I want snow. I want a lot of snow, and Bucket will not move us back to Erie where the snow is. He's so unfair, talking about how he has a job and we own a house, and all that nonsense. We have a tiny little dusting of white stuff on the grass, but Erie got five inches. Too bad I love Bucket more than I love snow, I guess.
Snow is a funny word, when you type it too many times, it looks like gibberish. I'm becoming an expert on gibberish. Llama is fluent in it and I'm starting to understand a little.
Back to how Llama turns seven months old. If you count the whole time I was pregnant (and I do), I've been a mom for a year and a third. Sixteen months. It seems like such a short time for such a big change. We should be given more time to adjust to the idea, I think. Maybe without being huge and feeling icky. My sister-in-law is pregnant and due in a month, and I do not envy her one bit. That last month was torturous. Of course, I do envy her getting a tiny, smooshy, snuggly baby. My baby is not tiny, definitely not smooshy, and absolutely not snuggly anymore. She is on the move. I am not allowed to snuggle her unless it is bedtime and she is very, very tired. It seems like I should have gotten more time for that, too.
Maybe the sleep deprivation is what keeps me going. I remember reading once, somewhere, that if you cut your calorie intake in half (?? something like that) and slept only four to five hours a day (I think... can't remember for sure...), you could double your life expectancy. Or something. I'm halfway there, anyway. I'm good with not sleeping. I cannot, however, stop eating. Some days that's the only reason I get out of bed. Well, that and the organic alarm clock. Llama is very noisy when she's unhappy. Hard to sleep through that.
And now, strangely, all I can think of is how I would like some cake and some wine. It's not even close to a time where that would be an acceptable meal. Something tells me it should be noon... or later... before I bust out the corkscrew and cake server. But it does remind me that I'm taking Llama to the liquor store with me today. Yay, Mother of the Year award, coming my way!