Dear Internets,

Hi there. Thanks for reading my blog. I can see you, and knowing you take the time to visit makes me ridiculously happy. Please feel free to tell me how smart and funny you think I am in the comments. You may also tell me I’m deluded and totally unprepared for motherhood. I don’t mind. And for my lovely friends (both real and interweb) who do comment, kisses.


P.S. Here’s an amusing anecdote for your Sunday afternoon:

I almost punched E in the face this weekend. It was not when he refused to pick someplace to eat. It was not when he decided he wasn’t really hungry so maybe we’d just go to a bar instead. It was not when he wouldn’t let me watch Step Up 2: The Streets, even though it looked TOTALLY AWESOME. It was not when he laughed when I started freaking out that the baby was trying to kill me, Alien-style. It was not when he made another dismissive hormonal-pregnant-woman-joke. It was not when he told me he had to work all weekend. It was not when he “forgot” to clean out the fridge.

It WAS when I woke up for the fifth time in two hours with incredibly painful heartburn and a horrible back ache and saw him sleeping peacefully. On his stomach.