PART ONE: In Which We Buy A Christmas Tree That Is Too Big For Our Christmas Tree Stand, Which Wouldn't Be Anything Of Note Except That This Is Like, The Fourth Year In A Row That We've Done That And Still Have Not Bought A Bigger Damn Tree Stand, Like, GOD.
That's our good chef's knife being put to inappropriate use, and yes, we caught our own tree this year, using our most festive fishnet.
PART TWO: In Which My Heart Both Bursts With Pride And Breaks With The Whole Sunrise, Sunset Aspect Of It All.
After procrastinating for WEEKS, I finally went through Noah's clothes and packed up all his little newborn stuff that fit him for like, a month.
If anyone needs any 0-3 month baby boy clothes, I suppose you could have these, except for that one little sleeper with Noah's Ark on it, and the teddy bear one he wore home from the hospital, and those funny striped PJs, and the onesie with the hippo, or the itty bitty cargo pants, or... BAAAAAHHHH MY PRECIOUSSSSSSSSSSSS
(Amy makes crazy bug-eyed face, grabs clothes and shoves them back into closet and hisses at Jason, who is so tired, because she's done this whole thing FOUR TIMES ALREADY AND THE CLOTHES ARE STILL HERE.)
PART THREE: In Which I Am Dumb.
In a sinus-congestion-fueled-stupor, I turned on the burner under the kettle to make my poor sick self some tea.
Quite some time later, I realized that I'd turned on the wrong burner, burned the shit out of our saucepan and stunk up the entire apartment with a truly horrific smell.
Apparently, anyway. I still can't smell anything, BECAUSE I NEVER GOT MY TEA, GODDAMMIT.
Fabulous prizes* will be awarded to the first person to correctly guess what that THING IN THE POT was before I cooked it to death.
*Fabulous prizes = my respect and bored admiration
PART FOUR: In Which I Level With The Internet Regarding What Maternity Leave Actually Looks Like.
PART FIVE: In Which I Give You What You Came For Already.
One day it will be considered inappropriate for me to nibble on my son's pudgy thighs, so you know I'm chowing down non-stop these days.
And now, the Parade of Noah Faces!
(Please don't judge me for all the face scratches. The baby, he's got nails that turn to talons over naptime. I swear the dog doesn't run across his face. Much.)