Its not that I dont have any ideas of what I can write about. Its not that. Its that I have too many ideas. I am overflowing with ideas. I am an opinionated person, if you havent noticed yet, and there is no shortage of things I have words to say about. Its just that they are too many and it causes a short somewhere and nothing happens.
Federer is playing for the finals at the moment. I want him to win. He is the cutest crying champion there is.
Back to me. It has been cold here. I know its supposed to be winter, but that does dissolve my right to complain about it? Not. I am wrapped in one of the kid blankets, as we speak and my fingers have a blue white tinge to them and I would not dream of putting them anywhere onto my other skin. They fit well under Mr.Blab’s shirt, but for some reason he is never impressed by it. Kind of jumps and looks at me with fear in his eyes, or maybe its just the look of “whats wrong with you woman!”. I still do it, but have resigned to the fact that instead of loving caring gesture of warming my frozen fingers with his body, he will just jump about like a cricket. Wuss.
I went to our first mom’s craft group, a.k.a. Kid free time, or as Mr.Blab branded it “craft” group, accompanied by the alcohol drinking gesture. When I told him about it, he said “What are you going to do with the kids?”. Its our standard joke really. I reply “I have a live in baby sitter”, he – “Oh, thats lucky”…
Federer won the second set!!! You go sensitive boy!
So I went to the group, carrying three of my dusty projects with me, along with a big bowl of Mexican wedding cakes . Those are divine! If you like nuts and butter, try them. Oh, so good.
We sipped some champagne, did a bit of craft work and chatted. They are all so nice and I have been quite lucky with my groups lately. No drama and issues. I wonder if its from getting older or something else, but I dont miss the crap that usually comes from putting a bunch of people together.
And Mr.Blab not only made sure that the kids survived, but he took all three to the grocery store and to fill the car with petrol. And to top it all off, he did not complain even a bit. Said that all went very smoothly. He didnt cook dinner, but I will let him slide, he is a dude after all. Cant expect too much, you know.
Boogers! They have been flying all week around here. Dotman/Caramel Popcorn/The Dude has been producing the bulk of them. Green juicy ones that didnt seem to stop. It seemed that whatever I fed him on the breast, dripped out in the breaks in between. He is fine, other than being a snot factory. But I think we are coming to the end of it. There is nothing he can do to stop being so cute, though. Nothing. No amount of green goopey boogers will help him escape his position as an unbelievably cute specimen. We just cannot stand it. “Stop it!” we say all day long. Stop being so cute! “Knock it off!”. You can hear those two all day long around here. He pulls up on the carton box and looks around non chalant like, oblivious to the warm fuzzy feelings that flow in the hearts of his parents, looking at him all big bottomed, with scrunched feet with missing sock (again!), wobbly, grinning with 5 gapped teeth and crunchy and shiny nose…Stop it! Followed by overpowering hug and kiss that transfers all the goop onto my face, but I dont care. Just knock it off, I cant take much more.
Thats about it. Or at least the stuff I wanted to chat about.
My nose is now blocked, I wonder why.
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