Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Random Thoughts

Bonnie is going to be 2 tomorrow. While it's bittersweet to watch her grow up, I don't feel any of the sadness I expected that I would. I'm not sorry to see the end of the baby days after all. Rather, I'm thrilled to bid adieu to the hassles that come part and parcel with the joys of an infant. Nighttime feedings, inexplicable wailing, constant neediness...buh-bye! Bonnie Girl at 2 is the best of both worlds -- small enough to carry, big enough to walk. I still look at her and thank my lucky stars that Tom and I didn't decide to stop at the "perfect family" our sweet boy and precious first girl supposedly were. Life wouldn't be complete without our littlest buddy even if we no longer fit in a restaurant booth.

People who complain about daycare expenses are as annoying as people in the military who complain about military life. As far as I know, nobody forced anybody else to have a child or enlist so you know what? Shut up. Seriously. And a tax credit for childcare expenses? Give me a fricking break. That's practically welfare in my book.

I have come across an interesting phenomenon in the blogging world -- people who beg for handouts from their readers. The crazy part is that people give them what they want! This one particular blogger who I cannot stand and yet cannot stop following, in one breath she's talking about how she and her children can no longer afford rent and in the next she's talking about how she really wants a boob job. She bought herself a new wardrobe rather than pay bills because the bills will always be there. She has 5 children. 5 hungry, growing little people. It boggles my mind that nobody calls her on her shit. Maybe they do and she deletes those comments. Whatever.

Winter has been long but even with all of the snowy madness, I still wouldn't want to live somewhere that doesn't have 4 distinct seasons. There is something to love about every season.

I have had Justin Bieber's "Baby" on a loop in my head since I first heard it on GLEE last week. This just might be the final nail in the coffin of my sanity.

38 is disturbingly close to 40. GOOD LORD.

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