182 Days of Freakin’ AwesomePosted: May 20, 2013
Yup, I’m six months old. I’m actually a few days older than six months old because you couldn’t get your ass in gear to write this post. Uh, no. I’m writing this. Not you. Right. Sorry for the crude language, you’ll still feed me in the morning, right?
Anyways. I’m glad you’re giving me the synthetic thyroid. I’m feeling loads better. I know you’re feeling guilty about not giving it me earlier, but you should try to get over yourself. I say that in the most respectful way that a baby could say it. The thing is, you did your best, I lived to see another day, and that’s that. Really, if you hadn’t tried to avoid the synthetic stuff, I’d have been a little insulted. You spent all that time with my sisters fretting over vaccinations and keeping them away from scary chemicals, the least you could do is give a more natural treatment the ol’ college try. I think you’ve already delved into the idea of guilt on this blog. So let’s move on, mama. Hugs.
I’m doin’ alright, huh? I’m pretty stoked about sitting up. (Let’s not mention to your blog readers that I can only do this when the stars align and for a few seconds at a time. That would be too much detail, ya know, take away from the glory of my moment.) I’m eating food still, much to your relief. I’m starting to giggle. What I’m really laughing about is how hard you guys try to get the laughs out of me. Honestly, you’re all acting a little desperate, you might want to tone it down a little.
What else can I tell ya? When you turn your back, my sisters pretty much descend on me like a pack of… rabid princesses. I know they mean well, but you might want to check in on me a little more. Stickers on my face hurt to get off, and they are always grabbing my arms and making me “dance” with them. It is embarrassing, mom.
Here’s some pictures of my first six months. I know it made you a little emotional to see these pictures all at once, but don’t get too carried away. I get that my arrival made you really go through some “what is the meaning of life” kind of moments, plural, but don’t blame that on me, okay? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure you were ripe for it anyways. Another reason not to get too emotional, it’s probably time for you to write another ranty blog post, so I don’t want you getting too mushy and going all puppy dogs and rainbows on me. Not that you didn’t do that already with that Mother’s Day post. Sheesh. Just keep it together, mama, I know I’m good lookin’. Don’t cry.