six months

On the 28th, my muffin turned six months old. In culinary terms and scope, this would make her now more of a layer cake. Sliced so that you can see all her delicate layers (adorable, frustrating, crying, laughing, crying while laughing, squealing, jumping, drooling, farting) and served on the most beautiful china plate. That will then break into 67 pieces right before I want to go to sleep. And we have no glue. Or any more plates.
Read More

what else to expect when you're expecting (the guilt)


All the high falutin’ plans I had months ago: swimming, yoga, bonding with other pregnant women in my neighborhood, walking every night, doing kegels at my desk, drying fruit, sitting calmly and reading…ALL BULLSHIT. None accomplished. Zero. I did four kegels once and spent the next two hours dribble peeing.

Read More