happy birthday to you

Muffin Soup,

Yes, here is another letter from me to you, Scrappy Doo. (If you haven’t figured it out by now, Mama likes to write. And it’s much easier to do this than try and whisper these sweet things into your ears because right now you have no intentions of ever snuggling with me again. As soon as you got mobile, you would sooner gnaw on the end of a laptop cord than tuck into the crook of my arm to read You Are My Cupcake.)


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what else to expect when you’re expecting (the gross and the paranoia)

(From my phone’s notepad, and quoted in a previous post, but it makes me laugh, so here it is again):

Feb 26
I would pay $100 for diarrhea.

I can’t let that sentence go away, even though I know Nuv is super disgusted with me and by me, the more I loiter around it. Seriously, I’ll let you use your imaginations as to why I would make this revolting deal with the devil. You just have to wait and see how your bowels get so possessive about your shit. And I had no idea this would be the case. So, this is, what, Lesson 374? Eat as many prunes and blueberries and beans as you can handle, because even then, it won’t be enough. And take good reading material into the bathroom with you, and be prepared to be patient, because the alternative is hemmorhoids, the most terrifying 11 letter word on the planet. I would rather serve the rest of this pregnancy in a maximum security prison on Mars then have them.

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