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.
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With no exaggeration, there are approximately 67 other pressing & important things I should be doing right now. The attitude I had September 1st with my glowing optimism, pens juicy with ink, and acceptance that I could willingly give up every TV show, magazine and solid hours of eyebrow plucking time gladly if it meant I had figured out what I'm supposed to be doing here.. well this attitude is now pulsing to an irregular ugly beat.
Going to school is officially the hardest thing I've ever done.
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