For almost three months now, I’ve been incapable of writing. Legitimately incapable. I sit down at my computer, open up a blank Word document, and…crickets. I wanted so badly to be able to do it, but just couldn’t. Like Nicolas Cage and acting. But today, I finally decided to put pen to paper (finger to keyboard?) and just go with it. I mean, if Gigli can be a thing, why can’t this blog post? So excuse me while I brush off the cobwebs and apply some WD-40 to this rusted entry…renovations are now underway.
So let’s catch up, shall we? Where were we last? It’s hard to keep track with all that’s gone on this past quarter of a year. That’s the thing they don’t tell you about having children…something is always bound to go wrong. When I was young and naive, I always thought that I’d give birth under normal circumstances and raise a perpetually healthy child. I couldn’t foresee at the time just how many illnesses, mishaps, and roadblocks lie just around the corner. Like Brooke’s head in infancy, for instance. Sure, you may be envious of how much my daughter slept in her early months, but all that time on her back led to the development of Plagiocephaly. Not so bad that she needed a helmet, mind you, but enough to make her head so flat that Trump would never be able to call it a 10. In the months that followed, she’d go on to contract Paronychia (twice), Impetigo, and Hand Foot and Mouth Disease. And to put the cherry (read: eye patch) on top of the cake, she was then diagnosed with Strabismus Exotropia, which I can only assume was my comeuppance for previously making a Stuart Scott joke. Karma is real, folks. So in the interest of concision, I will limit this post to the two main happenings of the past three months: namely, weaning from breastfeeding and my latest pregnancy scare.