If I were in England, I believe they would say I’ve been “brooding.”
Don’t get me wrong. We’re done. Done with babies. For many reasons. Time. Money. Psychosis. The kind that comes with not getting any sleep. And the kind that comes with not being able to do anything for yourself because you’re either nursing, trying to get sleep, trying to take a shower or (did I already say this?) trying to sleep.
Don’t get me wrong. We’re done. Done with babies. For many reasons. Time. Money. Psychosis. The kind that comes with not getting any sleep. And the kind that comes with not being able to do anything for yourself because you’re either nursing, trying to get sleep, trying to take a shower or (did I already say this?) trying to sleep.
Those are the things that really wrestle “brooding” to the ground and take its lunch money.
But… Stella sure is growing. My baby is going, going…soon to be gone. Replaced by an amazing and slightly crazy toddler. But no longer a baby.
So, instead of doing something silly or nuts event (like trying to make another of these magnificent little monsters), I’ve decided to simply celebrate the things I love about babies (any babies, really – but mine in particular).
But… Stella sure is growing. My baby is going, going…soon to be gone. Replaced by an amazing and slightly crazy toddler. But no longer a baby.
So, instead of doing something silly or nuts event (like trying to make another of these magnificent little monsters), I’ve decided to simply celebrate the things I love about babies (any babies, really – but mine in particular).
Like...
Births
Sleep
Okay one more picture of sleep. Little bag of sugar.
Laughing at who knows what.
And. I really like watching them grow too. Punks.
Laughing at who knows what.
Stuffed animals.
And. I really like watching them grow too. Punks.
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