Having a child that is teething is like. . .well there's nothing comparable. I just don't know. Having a child that is teething is like that time when you had another child that was teething, and their gums were sore and they had fevers and all they wanted to do was scream. Yeah...similar to that.
Everleigh is like full fledged teething 4 molars. LEGIT! When she does something, it goes noticed. Why would I think it would go any differently with her beautiful, shiny, white teeth. Everleigh needs a grip on reality. For 2 years I have dealt with this peaceful, and at times silly little baby doll, but today I swear she pulled some sort of 'Bride of Chuckie' craziness and I totally did not know what to do. Noah was a cranky baby, so I always knew what to do with him, but Everleigh. . .i had no clue!
I'm hoping these molars are worth it. They had better not get cavities or like need root canals or anything crazy like that because if i had my way, they'd be in her mouth forever. *sigh*
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
I have a lot of thoughts, and I know a lot of words. Infact, I pride myself in knowing a lot of words, because to have pride is basically the only thing one can do with a B.A. in English.
I'm not perfect, and there will be several run-on sentences, and comma splices here. But who's judging, right? No need for Condescending Wonka's here.
I have kids. Like more than one kid. Which means that I might have an extra roll around the middle, my make up might look like I was drunk when I put it on, usually my clothes (fresh from the dryer) are usually smeared with snot or food bits of some sort, and my brain is really fried. I guess having kids makes you kind of like a crack addict that needs to be on Intervention. (My episode airs in a few weeks, right after my episode of crazy baby paraphernalia hoarding).
I kind of want to post photos of my kids here. Because unlike their mother, they are clean, well dressed, no extra weight hidden under oversized shirts and yoga pants. But you have to promise me that you aren't some gross 50 year old man from Florida who touches their private spots a lot. PROMISE ME! That's the great thing about facebook...no one gets to see your photos unless you want them too (pssshaaa).
So that's my introduction to a 2 year hiatus from blogging. No pressure.
I'm not perfect, and there will be several run-on sentences, and comma splices here. But who's judging, right? No need for Condescending Wonka's here.
I have kids. Like more than one kid. Which means that I might have an extra roll around the middle, my make up might look like I was drunk when I put it on, usually my clothes (fresh from the dryer) are usually smeared with snot or food bits of some sort, and my brain is really fried. I guess having kids makes you kind of like a crack addict that needs to be on Intervention. (My episode airs in a few weeks, right after my episode of crazy baby paraphernalia hoarding).
I kind of want to post photos of my kids here. Because unlike their mother, they are clean, well dressed, no extra weight hidden under oversized shirts and yoga pants. But you have to promise me that you aren't some gross 50 year old man from Florida who touches their private spots a lot. PROMISE ME! That's the great thing about facebook...no one gets to see your photos unless you want them too (pssshaaa).
So that's my introduction to a 2 year hiatus from blogging. No pressure.
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