It/We left. Torpor is no more.
So, who wants a straight-up blog beastie? Who wants to read the boring droning whinging whining of a 30-year-old woman? Some of you may. Let me be perfectly Silly Putty with you: I'm going to start playing it straight, or, at least, straighter than It was. Shall you hear about my day? Indeed. A review of the chocolate zucchini bread recipe I tried? Oh, yes. The mundane ins and outs of the life of a toddler as viewed by his mother? Never as honest as another. It's all here, all for you. Or for me. It may be the thing that saves my brain.
There's another bun in the oven, it's baking and due on April 19th (actually, the due date was originally 4/20, but I didn't feel like having every stoner I'm acquainted with--and I know quite a few, as I am a member at my local co-op--giggling about a baked baby). The date was a lie, and I have a midwife as an accomplice; are you gonna mess with me about it? I had a natural, un-medicated homebirth with my son, SeaBass, and it hurt like hell. Am I braver than you? Maybe not, but I've definitely shown my boldness.
In other news, I had my foot chewed apart by the cramp from hell, I take 4 antacids a day, and my belly button looks a lot like a thumb print. I can't wait to share more about the joyous noise that a 2 1/2 year old and a newborn shall harmonize...
