My mum's in town, so blogging has taken even more of a backseat than when the baby arrived. It's now so far in the backseat, it's in the trunk. I figure you're all big boys and girls who are not so sad as to get your exclusive kicks here, so I'm not worried.
With way too much to do, too few hands with which to do it all, and breasts that spontaneously lactate for many, many reasons, I now tend to get a lot done looking like a freaking T-Rex with my forearms pressed against my boobs.
I got Rock Band 2. Pity the children who will have to hear my singing as well as my cursing my way through the drumming.
My new child is bent on getting into the Guinness Book of Records for being the fattest little tyke known to man. She looks like a short mafia don, what with the little baldish head and cheeks that put Winston Churchill to shame.
I saw my belly dance instructor perform a couple of days ago and it brought tears to my eyes because I miss dancing and feeling the beat. Then I look down and see the little pooch of a belly and realize I've GOT to get back to it. But with a more concealing outfit this time around...
I pumped just so I could have a little wine at a tasting in a wine store. I got slightly drunk. Hey, I'm a light weight AND they gave generous samples. I'm a cheap date.
Life is still damn good. Here's a music video to chill out to. Enjoy: