Forgive me Father. It’s been almost two years since my last confession. Far too long to go without a verbal cleansing, but thankfully I’ve been spinning and sweating out my inner demons, or maybe that’s just french fries. Pfft, whatever, same difference.
In any event, I suspect my penance is going to be a lot more than a few Hail Mary’s, which I won’t say any way, so I doubt it matters. I do pray every time I see an ambulance with sirens going though. Surely, that’ll get to me to the gates of St. Peter and from there I plan to charm my way in. Flashing a boob is still considered charming right?
And away we go…
Ave is still on the teat. The World Health Organization (WHO) recommends nursing until two years of age, and we just passed her second birthday. She doesn’t seem keen to leave the “mommy milk” behind though.
Truth, I want my breasts back, but I’m also unable to say “no” when she gets upset, at least about this, although I can easily deny her cookies or another episode of Elmo. It might be wishful thinking, but I want the nursing to conclude naturally, without ripping her away from her security blanket and ending things on a sour note, pun intended.
Speaking of the tiny human, I’d love for her to have a sibling since both the Hubby and I come from three children homes. Then I remember I’d have to carry the baby to term and take care of them afterwards and all notions of brothers and sisters go out the window. She’s got Oscar; it’s practically the same thing.
I’m praying Ave’s latest diva moments are just a phase and not her actual personality emerging. She makes Cher seem like Mother Teresa.
In that same vein, I accidentally signed up for a live sex website last week. I should have known Jillian Michaels wasn’t offering me a free thirty-day membership. Sigh.
A friend of mine wants to get some artistic pictures done and she sent me this photo as an example. Brace yourself ladies or at least your nether regions. One strong gust of wind and this chick’s got herpes. I hope she got a tetanus shot first.
The cookie cake we made for Ave’s birthday was ‘eh at best, and the leftovers went straight into the garbage can. Thankfully it wasn’t one of my recipes or else I’d have to hang my head in shame and cancel my blog domain.
Also, did you know about this? I’m slightly horrified, totally guilty and yet I have no intentions of stopping.
Since we’re on the topic of food, I’ve never tried avocado toast. You’re going to have to revoke my basic bitch card.
I’m not above a good avocado cheese sammie though.
Last but not least, and in no way related, the Hubby purchased off brand Q-tips, also known as ear swabs, and my eargasm has suffered exponentially. Some things you just can’t scrimp on.
I want to hear your confessions. Spill it.