Don't you hate it when bloggers post apologies for not posting? Because what, like you have nothing better to do than come to their dusty little site and refresh constantly, looking for some drivel to relieve the unending boredom of your day? Like you are hanging on their every word and when they go a couple days without posting you start wondering if everything is okay, because if they are not writing on the Internet they simply cease to exist, because your personal view of reality involves a little too much YouTube and not enough fresh air? Please. Whatever, Miss Fancypants Blogger Person, whatever.
Sorry for not posting, everybody!
Everything is, duh, fine. I've just spent a few glorious days being extremely selfish and offline and mostly just not doing anything remotely post-worthy. I've been enjoying my little family and cooking some amazing food because the novelty of the new kitchen hasn't worn off yet, and holy crap, I would have eaten a bowl of those creamed leeks for breakfast this morning if I hadn't eaten them all last night. (We made them with fat free half & half instead of whipping cream, by the way, because good lord, did I ever manage to pack the pounds on this holiday season.) I've unpacked a few boxes and assembled some bookshelves and bought a coffee table at Target. I did not fall down or otherwise injure myself, although I do have some kind of blister on my tongue that's really getting on my nerves.
I also spent some time fretting over Noah's lack of talking, but luckily resisted posting my trademarked brand of overdramatic freakout about it, since now I believe he IS talking, I just can't understand a damn word he says.
He said "doggy" this weekend to some dogs at the local dog park. OR SO I'VE BEEN TOLD, BECAUSE HE SAID IT THE MINUTE I WAS OUT OF EARSHOT, TRYING TO MAKE SURE A GODDAMNED GERMAN SHEPHERD DID NOT EAT MY RATDOG. He has not said it since, although he has said "no" to me approximately thirty quajillion times.
I am not a fan of the local dog park, by the way, with all the people. And their dogs. But that's probably another post.
I am also not a fan of the children's clothing industry, which is not making a lick of sense to me anymore. To wit:
The shirt is size 9-12 months at H&M. The pants are 12-18 months from OshKosh. The suspenders? Well, they're from Baby Gap and I swear I'm not trying to do some kind of Lil'est Ironic Hipster look here, I'm just so tired of Noah's pants falling off. My family keeps asking for Noah's clothing size and the question is really stressing me out, because LOOK AT HIM. I THINK IT'S OBVIOUS THAT I DON'T KNOW.
Green froggy slippers? FAN.
Especially since they cost like, $3 at Target, and if I can buy novelty baby clothes AND living room furniture AND paper towels in bulk at the same store? I don't know, but everything in the world just seems to make sense again, and I am ready to face the new year with courage and determination and a promise to maybe think about TOPICS and POINTS and THINGS instead of just randomly pecking at the keyboard for 20 minutes and posting whatever words I happen to spell correctly.