i haven’t been posting as much. typing with one hand is tricky. in the other hand i have the fruits of my ttc labor, asleep with a pacifier in his mouth.
i guess i have also exactly too much and too little to say.
i want to tell you about “when babies attack: the great face-eating trucker.” I guess that’s self-explanatory. my youngest son kisses like an inexperienced high school boy — while grabbing your hair. thank god he doesn’t have teeth yet. is that a whole post? nah.
i want to drool over our upcoming president and stomp over prop 8. neither is very original. i think we’re all on the same page here.
am i starting to freak out about going back to work? (not for another month and a half, but still…) yes. yes I am.
i am just getting in a groove with being home. i’ve just started to take those long walks through the park up to my old neighborhood that i’d envisioned myself taking all along. i’ve just begun to hang out in cafes with other moms, eating over-priced criossants and debating about sleep training. there isn’t even one little ounce of me that wishes i were teaching. does that make me a bad teacher? nah. it makes me a good mom.
so that’s it, folks: the sound of one hand clapping.
thanks for stopping by, anyway.
let me know if you have any post requests. i’d love to cater to your reading needs. what do you want to know about big city gay mom life with a newborn and a three-year-old?