I was thinking I should write something today since the baby's asleep, but then I realized I had nothing interesting to say. So I'm writing about nothing. Seinfeld would be proud.
Why is it that I only feel the urge to write when I'm unhappy or something's bothering me? I mean, ok, the answer to that is obvious, but why don't I feel like writing when I'm happy, like I am today?
Once K went down for her morning nap I got so much done, I cleaned two bathrooms, my floors, my dogs (after sweeping the dog hair for the nth time, I decided they needed a go with the Kong Groomer), my kitchen and then myself. Then K woke up, so I fed her and played with her and then she starting grizzling and moaning and beating her little hands on my shoulder and face and I decided that it was time for another nap. I looked in not five minutes later and she's out cold with her mouth open.
I know, I KNOW I'm biased, and every mother thinks their baby is the most beautiful child in the world, but honestly, who can say that Bradgelina's spawn is beautiful? Especially compared to mine?