Category Archives: parenting

Where I learn that I am old

How I learned that I was old.

In a stunning twist of events, Vince slept over at his Grandparents last Friday night and Edward and I had the night to ourselves…

We were nervous and/or baffled. Nervous about receiving late-night phonecalls from his parents about how we needed to come and pick V up. And baffled because neither of us could remember the last time we had slept alone in our house together. I believe it was in 2008.

And I should add that we really had no idea what to do with this precious blip of time. (Please remember that I am a million years pregnant and if you were thinking that a ‘sexy’ suggestion would be obvious, be reminded that the only thing I am having an intimate relationship with these days  is my body pillow)

We’d gotten a tip that there was this cool pub that served Vegan food near the city and thought we’d start there. Who doesn’t like a cool pub?! And one that serves vegan food? Clearly this was a pub that was right up our alley. The tip included that the food was super. And since Edward and I are becoming increasingly old and decrepit, the idea of checking something new out was both daunting and exhilarating. Just the ticket for a Friday night.

We cruised into the parking lot. I waddled into the pub with husband in tow. We were seated and ordered drinks. And then I had this conversation with the (very young) waitress.

J: “I’ll have a coke.’

VYW: “Did you want ice for that? It does come in a bottle, you know…”

J: “A bottle? Great! Nope, I don’t need ice.”

And then she brought me a plastic bottle of soda. Classic case of misunderstanding. And also why did I assume the soda was going to come in a glass bottle? Because I’m old? Quite possibly.

It was still pretty early for a Friday night, Edward ordered a beer and we got some deep-fried pickles. And slowly the cool kids arrived. And then suddenly the whole place was packed with hipsters. Edward texted me, from across the table, the following:

“Everyone here is so hip.”

“Except for us.”

“Are we in Portland?”

I think we might have been. Or I was back in Victoria (BC that is), circa 1999 or 2000 and a University student again? The pub was packed with people in oversized glasses, men with scarves, skinny jeans, tattoos and very earnest looking conversations. Everywhere we turned there was another onslaught of pretty, disheveled girls paired with men wearing plaid and dark glasses. In boating shoes. With no socks on.

Man, we were clearly out of our league. It was almost enough to want to make you chant “One of us. One of us.” and then lean in and try to join a conversation about the challenges of composting in an apartment complex.

Ok, I’ll stop. Honestly it was a great place to grab a bite and hang out. It just happened to make me feel ancient and extremely uncool. Whatever, suck it up Jaime. You are approaching old and have never been cool. I’m rather comfortable with that now in any case, must have been the hormones acting up…

I have this feeling that this is something I should be getting used to. Or at least that Edward and I should attempt these hawt nights out at a place more our pace like  Cracker Barrel. Or maybe that we should make sure to be in the company of other people that could at least rub a thin veneer of ‘hip’ off on us that would make our entrance to this world a little smoother.

I keed, I keed… E and I totally don’t go to Cracker Barrel. Much.

xoxo a.m.

 

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Just a wee post about pee (snicker)

The waiting room was full, but extremely stylish...

Things are starting to wind down over here, pregnancy-wise, and I am starting to get a little apprehensive regarding what is coming. Apprehensive might be the wrong word, actually. But I’m having a hard time coming up with what exactly is the right one.

I’ve about 6 weeks to go and am just starting my bimonthly doctor appointments. Tuesday is my first one and since I’m not totally jazzed about my doctor and the office staff, I’m not too jazzed about these more regular visits.

I had to swap out doctors this pregnancy when I found out that the physician that delivered Vince stopped delivering babies because of some random OR incident (or at least that’s what her office staff muttered to me when I asked. “Fractured collar-bone in the OR”, she said through pursed lips.)How that even happens, I honestly am not sure. Or if, indeed, it’s even true.

Anyways, I’m not in love with my physician is what it really boils down to. And I am not particularly fond of the office staff either since the second visit when they randomly asked me for a large sum of money without explaining why it was being requested. And then looked at me like I was an idiot for asking what it was for.

But let me just get my real issue out in the open air…

I went to put my urine sample in the bathroom cupboard…. Wait, is this tmi? Well, maybe just stop reading for a minute or so. Let me get this off my chest….

So as I was saying, I went to put my sample in the bathroom cupboard (designed specifically for this purpose so the medical staff can remove it from the outside by a separate door). I opened the cupboard. There literally were about 7 samples inside that had clearly been there for a while. And there was nowhere for mine.

I just kind of stood there for a few seconds, staring at all that pee. All that pee that belonged to other people, people named ‘Jennifer’ and ‘Samantha’. Ugh.

What the hell did I do with mine? I ran a couple of scenarios through my mind and finally settled on the least ridiculous one. I calmly shifted other peoples urine around on the shelf until there was room for mine and then carefully set it down.

And then I went out and washed my hands thoroughly.

What. The F.

It’s just a one physician practice. It’s a teeny office. There are 2  nurses. How on earth does it reach this stage especially when ones appointment is at 8:30?

I’m no stranger to urine and feces either. I do have a 3 1/2 year old. And a baby on the way. And a husband. It’s not like it’s a mystery. But there have to be some standards, right? You don’t just ignore a cupboard full of pee, especially since this is a ‘deposit’ you are expecting from every single patient that enters the office. You’ve got to give us some options other than ‘touch everyone elses pee cups to make room for mine’. Although, I guess I could have asked them to move it, or told them it was full instead of passive aggressively being angry about it still weeks later.

Bahahahaha…. Where’s the fun in that??

I will really enjoy going back to my previous physician once darling, sweetest baby girl has arrived. And never, ever stepping foot in that grotty little office again.

I hope you enjoyed my story about pee.

Happy Sunday night 🙂

xoxo a.m.

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Craft fail spectacular

Craft fail. That pretty much sums up my creative attempts Sunday…

I haven’t gotten my craft on in quite a while. It’s possible it might actually have been years since I crafted. What a horrible admission! Whats wrong with me? What have I been doing for the past few years?

Oh right. Playing playdough. Endlessly. (Can’t stand it either.) Mixing the colours literally makes me shudder. I honestly feel that you should play with each colour separately. And don’t ever combine them! Oh the horrors! Or at least combine them in a manner that allows them to be easily separated from one another, so you can put each one cleanly back in its container unsoiled.

God I’m a freak.

Anyways… Saturday night and Sunday morning I spent shaving crayons. ‘We’ were going to make crayon hearts and if you click the link on Saturdays blog from Martha Stewart, gosh do hers ever look pretty! The wax smelled lovely, like kindergarten. I had so much fun picking out various pinks and reds and purples and the shaved wax looked so pretty mixed together…

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I had this lovely container pretty full and then I went and got a pedicure. And then Vince went over to his Grandparents house for a visit. Alone. And Edward and I were home. ALONE. And I did laundry. Party.

And since Vince wasn’t around, I thought to myself ‘Perhaps I should do the ironing part, since a 3 1/2 year old really doesn’t need to be that close to a hot iron’. This was a really clever plan. And so I did and gosh it looked nice. The colours started to meld together just a little and it looked like stained glass. And I had a kindergarten flash-back, which sort of made for a lovely experience.

And then it melted a little more. And then I looked at it a little strangely, for it appeared to be taking on another form entirely. One that was not in any way related to Valentines Day, but perhaps a little more at home in a hospital. Or a morgue. In the middle of an autopsy perhaps. Or maybe a biopsy?

 

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Hmm, that looks sort of like a lung. Don’t worry, I cut out little hearts from it anyways and tied them up with red ribbon (’cause I’m fancy like that). And hung them up by my front door.

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Edward took one look at it and said something like “What the hell are those?!” And one of my friends almost snorted soda out of her nose when I flashed her a photo of my clever creation.

So clearly I need to get my mojo back. This was a craft fail on a HUGE scale. Although I guess if you wanted to put a positive spin on it, at least the hearts are cut out of material that genuinely looks like it is actually from a heart.

Don’t worry fret my pets… I’m sure I’ll find something else to make a mess of this coming weekend. I’ll be sure to actively include my child in craft creation this time, instead of hogging it all to myself…

xoxo a.m.

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Where I am a pain in my own ass and other ridiculousness

Mmmhmm, it’s Saturday night and hey guess what! I over-did it today! Probably I should get a high-five for that?

"I am very serious about my tools"

Even though I am 31.5 weeks pregnant, my brain seriously seems to shut down and think that I am not pregnant at all. And so I proceed with my Saturday like I normally would. So told it was Home Depot with friends for the free children’s workshop, then off for donuts, then over to BabysRus to register, then to Waterford Lakes to Barnes & Noble for a quick book look, then to the movies to see Alvin and the Chipmunks 3, back home to Lake Nona to hit the grocery store and finally home to make dinner, bathe the munchkin, do 2 loads of laundry and put Vince to bed.

Regular Saturday stuff. Usually this kind of thing is de rigueur for me. Edward working 7 days a week and the fact that he’s in the middle of a ‘marking papers’ marathon necessitates me keeping Vince busy and out of his hair.

But seriously, I’m a total dumbass. I was so worn out from life, work, toddlers etc that I could barely function on Friday at work and had to go home and sleep. I can’t walk fast anymore. I am in full on waddle mode. What the hell am I thinking?

Gah, I’m a pain in my own ass.

And the seriously funny thing is that I honestly was planning on doing crafts with Vince once I got home. So much so that I was actually shaving crayons in the kitchen while he was eating dinner in prep for some crafty business.

This is what we are planning on doing tomorrow. Thanks Martha Stewart! Crayon hearts are awesome, easy and will look lovely hanging in the window and maybe even Baby Girl’s bedroom? I’m mentally planning lots of Valentine’s day crafts with Vince this month.

Partially because we had the following ridiculous conversation about Valentine’s Day:

Me: “Valentine’s Day is a day where we tell our favorite people that we love them an extra lot and maybe we make them a special present too!”

V: “I like presents. I’m going to buy a present for ME! And it’s going to be GREEN! Like the pig from Angry Birds!”

M: “Hmm, well…”

V: “And then we are going to play Angry Birds. And then we are going to give Chewie an Angry Birds present! And Mummy, can I play the Angry Birds Seasons game on your phone? Now?”

M: “…..”

So clearly we need some more education regarding this made-up holiday. Which is what the month of January is going to be devoted to. And clearly I need to remove Angry Birds Seasons from my phone OR stop using it as a bribe while grocery shopping.

So tomorrows plans will be a little more laid-back than today’s. Because I am not a crazy person. And I still work full-time. And I need to make sure I squeeze a wee bit of rest into the day. I’m daydreaming about a pedicure right now…

I’m going to go and prop my belly up on a pillow in bed and watch something totally ridiculous on Hulu.

xoxo a.m.

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Happy New Year, or else!

2012 has arrived like a bright and shiny new penny and I swear the air is filled with enticing promises and plans already.

This year though I am resolving to remain resolved about my resolutions. My resolutions that I am going to, for the most part, keep to myself. I will admit that 2 big goals are to write more and to be more creative. How both of these things will work out with baby number 2 making her appearance in 9 short weeks shall be very interesting to see.

In a silly, horoscopically-focused kind of way, I feel like this year has more potential than, say, last year. Not that last year was a bad boy or anything, but this year is the Year of the Dragon. My year. Also my mothers. And by a quirky twist of fate, my unborn daughters. Does this not sound auspicious? It’s like a sign from a Guy Gavriel Kay novel or something… (currently rereading his books and adore him all the more)

I am really excited about focusing more on creativity this year. I feel like I have grand plans and schemes, but lately things have fallen to the wayside. So kick-starting this is something I am anticipating. What I think will really help pull my focus is that we finally made the leap and got rid of cable. Now we did get Apple TV and HuluPlus, but despite these options, I’ve noticed a huge decrease in telly gazing on all parties involved.

Vincent has been very interesting to observe. At first he didn’t even notice. And then a few times he asked for particular shows that he used to watch on cable. I told him we didn’t have them any more and directed his attention towards his toys. Since then, the few times he’s actually asked for a show, it’s very non-specific and I am so happy that Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is neither on NetFlix nor Hulu.

So one week in and we don’t miss it one iota. And my closets are all cleaned. And I baked cookies and made strawberry shortcake. And Edward and I watched a WHOLE movie together. And I’ve been in bed at 8:30 or 9 every night (that part might just be because I am pregnant and tired though…).

It’s interesting to see how a small change has such a huge impact on a household.

I’ve got several ‘rub my hands together gleefully and chuckle’ type plans for projects on the backburners of my mind. Some are for me. Some are for Vince. None are for Edward, but he will be required to high-five us both and admire the results in a believable manner.

A Happy New year to all of you. May the year of the Dragon be one filled with wonderful adventures in life for you all…

xoxo a.m.

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A pregnant Christmas ramble…

I’m not really sure how it happened, but Christmas is in 8 days. Originally I had felt a bit panicked as the holiday season approached, what with being an enormous preggo and all. That combined with shopping  is just a pile of no-fun. But as it turns out, there isn’t anything to worry about.

After much conversation, Edward and I are (in a way) opting out of the majority of the hype shopping-wise. Honestly, there isn’t anything that either of us want. And really all I like is presents in my stocking, that’s my favorite.

And plus, what is honestly more fun that watching your child’s face on Christmas morning. Much more rewarding that watching your partners face as they open socks (or whatever awesome techno-giftie you got them this year).

So I low-keyed it, bought V a bunch of Star Wars books. And a few other things as well, it’s hard not to… And Edward is having a hard time resisting the lure of purchasing Star Wars action figures for Vince, especially since Vince is taking to it like a duck to water. Isn’t that funny? He learned about Star Wars 3 weeks ago and practically has memorized every characters name, declared favorites and is thrilled that Daddy and him have a ‘date’ to watch the movie in the next few days…

Total digression, I know, but sometimes a Star Wars digression is worth it. More so when ones child declared to Santa that he wanted a Jabba the Hutt present from Santa and sent Daddy scrambling to eBay to hunt one up since it is not possible to find anything like that 10 days before Christmas. Ha!!

Anyways, so I find myself in a pleasant situation of not needing to do any more shopping. Which is a relief since I don’t want to. I barely mailed cards out this year and feel like a huge holiday slacker. And I don’t care.

I couldn’t have appreciated it any more than today when I woke up WAY too early to the sound of someone crying “I HAVE TO DO A POO!” at some ungodly hour. Preceeded by a coma-like sleep which started last night at about 8:30 when I passed out on the couch trying to spend a nice evening with E watching a movie together.

So pretty much I’m a big, tired loser. But while I’m that, I’m also a stress-free loser because of our mini-opt out.

And guess what? I’m going to bed. Right now. Before I coma-out on the couch again…

xoxo a.m. (

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Where I regret being smug and other things…

Click me. I'll make you read about pregnancy. Don't mind my repeated spelling errors....

First let me just say that this pregnancy is a total bitch.

A migraine, hormone-laden son of a total m-fing bitch. And typing that really feels like a glorious, orgasmic release…

I feel kind of embarrassed when I think back to being pregnant with Vince. God, I was so smug. I felt great, ate healthily and slept well. ALL THE TIME.

Probably because I wasn’t a parent yet. I just was a dog-parent, which while counting somewhat, doesn’t actually count in the realms of sanity.

So now that I feel crappy, tired, hormonal, angry/happy all the time plus I have a little person to keep an eye on? Gah. I’m just a mess. A big ol’ mess.

Ok, enough of that blather… I’m alive, and really I’m fine. Honestly.

Vince, on the other hand, is developing some interesting new actions. And by interesting I mean a combo of ‘annoying’, ‘odd’ and ‘oh please let it end soon’. It’s almost a one-two punch.

First there is a bi-monthly event of the nightmare. This is carefully timed to achieve optimal impact by aiming for the nights that Mummy and Daddy are extra tired/crappy feeling. And the result of the nightmare is that Vince ends up in our bed, neither of us are able to sleep with him. It is impossible. This last time was Friday night. He woke up at 11:50 pm crying and crawled in with us.

And proceeded to ask to play Angry Birds. Repeatedly. I ended up in his little bed with my body pillow where I didn’t sleep for 5 hours and woke up to the sound of Vince discussing Angry Birds with Daddy at 5:30 am.

And then there is his ‘sensitive ears’. A lovely new development over the last few weeks. Apparently pretty much everything is too loud. Unless he really really likes it, then it’s fine. A lot of things are too loud. Like the toilet flushing, Mummy talking, Chewie barking. But surprisingly Angry Birds at full volume is never too loud. In fact, it appears to consistently be too quiet.

I am quite sure that this kind of behavior is on par with ‘three’ and am trying to not be too surprised by it. Or really overreact at all, just correct the behavior and try not to make too big a deal of it. Lord knows this does not need to be encouraged.

In the realm of real life, I honestly cannot believe that Christmas is less than two weeks away. And that I am in my third trimester. And that the nursery is painted and awaiting a new little love that will arrive in less than 12 weeks.

Don’t worry, my brain is glossing over it all like its been doing when I try to bring up any details of what going into labour was like. It’s just slipping right over it all, moving right on to having a 6 month old.

Well done brain! Just the way I like it!

xoxo yours in sleeplessness a.m.

 

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Sex and the toddler

My pregnancy evoked an interesting development in our house today, one I guess that was to be expected but, at the same time, one that I was not really thinking I’d be exploring this particular Sunday.

Please to read my conversation with my son:

“Mummy? Is the baby in your tummy?”, Vince asked as he walked deliberately towards me.

“Yes Sweetie, the baby is in my tummy”, I responded absent-mindedly.

“Is it in your bottom tummy, here?” he asked as he patted my lower stomach area, “Or is it up here”, he continued as he patted higher up on my tummy.

“The baby is all in here, all around”, I responded, rubbing my belly in a circular motion. I was totally engrossed in rereading ‘The Host’ by Stephanie Meyer and not really paying much attention.

“If the baby is in here, then what is this Mummy?” Vince asked as he inquisitively patted my breasts.

Well, that got my attention. And I actually put down my nook. AND I made a face.

Because really, I had no idea where to go with this one. I glanced over at Edward, who was in the kitchen making some much needed coffee. He got in late last night and from the looks of it REALLY REALLY needed to drink that coffee before I involved him in anything like this.

While I was stalling, Vince kept going:

“What are they Mummy? Are they elephants?? Are they teddy bears? Are they giraffes?

Good lord, he thought he was funny. And I kept having to swipe little hands off my chest, where they were apparently planning on parking for the day.

I looked over at Edward: “A little help please?! What did you want to call these?

He mouthed “Fun bags” at me with a smirky grin. Ass. Clearly the  coffee had done it’s trick. And clearly I was hitting this one solo.

“Well, they are Mummy’s… ahhh… boobies…”, I said with a wince. Saying that sentence out-loud made me feel like the lamest, oldest, lame-o ever in the history of lame. Geez-us. And while I was saying that word out-loud, I looked over at Edward who  was making a disapproving face at me. He apparently did not approve  of my word choice.

But that was ok, because V said “Your Boo-boos?” and I leapt on it like it was a raft and I was drowning.

“Yes!!! Booboos!” Probably I didn’t need to shout it so loudly. And then the moment passed, he stopped touching my chest and the morning progressed…

Holy touch and go Batman!

And I think we are going to leave them as ‘booboos’ for the time being. Easier, no? I am quite aware that this subject will come up again. Actually, I am surprised that this is the first time we’ve had to address it. I might need to get one of those age appropriate sex books. Or something. Gah. Can’t he stay ignorant forever? I don’t really need to tell him about this kind of stuff, right?

I think I’ll just sweep it under the rug for the time being… K? Shhh, don’t tell…

xxoo a.m.

 

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Round. Er.

Frilly pants freak out!

So a few weeks later, I am back. A little rounder and feeling more content. Did I mention rounder? Round. Er.

Quite a few things have transpired in the last little, transforming things. I think the hugest of these is finding out that we are expecting a sweet baby girl. To be honest, I really was excited for whatever sweet little baby we were having. And to be honest, I secretly hoped, in my heart of hearts that it would be a girl. And to be really honest, I really thought it was going to be a boy.

We found out 3 weeks ago and I still am not totally adjusted. Even though I have quite the list of girls names, I am still clinging to the boys… I was so sure it would be another little man that I was way more involved with considering that gender.

So with baby steps I am realizing what the other side of the gender equation holds for me.

Obviously pink is a big draw. Tights are going to be huge. Today I realized hair accessories and possible ballet classes. Last week I went to Ross and browsed the girls section and just about broke down. Everything had cats, sparkles, ruffles on the bottom and frills.

My mind was completely blown.

This past weekend, I bought paint for the nursery and browsed a completely different colour spectrum. It was quite surreal.

And of course, the biggest departure will be less penis cleaning. What a thrill! (I know  you are secretly thrilled for me).

It’s a huge mental adjustment and I am just dusting the surface of what this will really mean. In a way it feels like I am about to become a parent again for the first time. And yes, I am bordering on the dramatic. It’s just what I do, no control over it…

My awful headache/migraines are slowly decreasing, which I think is in direct proportion to how much caffeine I am drinking (when combined with my headache meds). My doc gave me the go ahead to add some coffee or soda to the prescription he gave he to help give them a little boost and since then it’s been much more effective. Still have the headaches 4 or 5 times a week, but it’s a little more manageable…

Anyways, things are feeling peaceful. Baby is feeling busy. Vince is feeling extra chatty and proclaims things like “Look Mummy! I’m a pineapple!” and “Watch me! I’m a hot dog! With mustard!”

I feel a resurgence of bliss and joy and am welcoming both with open arms. I am quite certain I will never let them go…

xoxo a.m. (Baby girl! Freak out!)

 

 

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Why bingo should never be played by toddlers

A hectic Saturday is always a good thing. Especially following a giant poo of a Friday exhaustion-wise. We all slept like a bunch of bad ass mother-f’ers. That had done a bunch of bad ass mother-f’ing things. Or I did anyways.

Vince had his last soccer game this morning followed by an epicly chaotic soccer celebration. It misty-rained through-out the whole game and Vince was his bipolar-Gemini best/worst. Post-game, we gathered in the cafeteria @ the Y for treats and each little soccer player was paraded out on stage and given a trophy. It was a wonderful end to 10 weeks of what I was pretty sure was going to be hell.

Our second stop of the day was on the other side of town, near one of my girlfriends house. Last year, we took the kids to a fall festival in Oakland, which is a little town a few miles from Winter Garden. It’s kind of a Halloween-slash-Fall festival, with a little bit of town pride thrown in. Very kid oriented, with lots of activities for the little ones.

Vince dove right in. He made a trick-or-treat bag, he painted a pumpkin, he ran around and played a bunch of very silly games. He ran himself ragged on the playground. He ate popcorn and cotton candy. He got cranky and started to turn into a bit of a beast.

And as this beast was manifested itself, I decided to use our last game tickets (which were for bingo).

In retrospect, what on earth was I thinking. Seriously. Three year olds do not need to learn how to play bingo.

It was awful. He wanted to colour the whole card. He wanted to colour numbers that didn’t exist and then got mad at me when I couldn’t find them. He wanted to sit on my lap, he wanted to get off, he wanted to sit on my lap again, he wanted to sit in his own chair, he wanted to sit on just one of my knees, he wanted to sit on the other knee. I wanted to pull my hair out.

We were both covered in marker by the time someone else won. And thank god they won quickly, because I honestly wasn’t sure how much more I would be able to take. And looking over at my friend with her 3 year old perched on her knee, I could see she was in complete and total agreement.

We left. Quickly.

What on earth was I thinking! Bingo? Toddler? This is the worst equation ever. Even trying to describe it still doesn’t come close at all to what the reality of it. My mother sent me a message that said something along the lines of “I did the same thing with you, only it was checkers…”

Ugh! Mum! Checkers? If I had any doubts about us being the exact same person, they were immediately dispelled upon reading that note. Checkers might be the 1970’s equivalent of my bingo experience.

Anyways, I will never do it again. I swear.

V went to sleep so quickly this evening, how delightful! I do so enjoy a busy Saturday…

xoxo a.m.

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