Life doesn't suck -that- much!
You guys are wonderful.
That journal entry was written by my new room mate after she thought she signed me out of lj. I couldn't figure out why hotmail was showing me all these consoling comments when I haven't posted more than in the many bitchy parenting groups I'm part of. (For a fun time, see booju_newju --it's a family-oriented debate group. people are BITCHES.)
Updates...
Gabriel is almost a year old.
Satruday brings the big oh-one.
He's walking, he's picking up on words like nobody's business --He says "Jen" and "A-choo" and "Mama, Dada" "Hi, Guy!" and "Kitty!" and last night I told him "NO" and he said "Uh -huh-" and that went on for like five minutes.
He chuckles when he's doing something evil, like escaping to the back yard. Won't wear shoes. Takes off his pants all the time. Plays with poo. And Michael won't, won't, won't let me order him a Disney Princess cake for his birthday.
Michael and I aren't rocky.
(Finally.)
We're fuckin -married- mind you
(No, NOT literally)
so we argue and bitch and moan all the damn time.
But we lurve.
He's studying Eastern thought and working in the men's department of Dillards (laugh if you need to, my mom did).
I'm reading all the novels I can get my hands on because this semester off will be the catalyst for my first Great Work. *cough* I'm still on my tarot kick. And you haven't heard anything from me because a)I use my blog @ myspace, and b)This has been THE hardest GOD DAMNDEST semester of my entire damn LIFE. Yeah, I know some of you are taking Russian and shit, but Spanish with an eleven-month-old grabbing for your book and throwing tantrums is no piece of cake.
Oh and the whole campus thinks we're swingers, because we have big mouths and no shame. Score.
That journal entry was written by my new room mate after she thought she signed me out of lj. I couldn't figure out why hotmail was showing me all these consoling comments when I haven't posted more than in the many bitchy parenting groups I'm part of. (For a fun time, see booju_newju --it's a family-oriented debate group. people are BITCHES.)
Updates...
Gabriel is almost a year old.
Satruday brings the big oh-one.
He's walking, he's picking up on words like nobody's business --He says "Jen" and "A-choo" and "Mama, Dada" "Hi, Guy!" and "Kitty!" and last night I told him "NO" and he said "Uh -huh-" and that went on for like five minutes.
He chuckles when he's doing something evil, like escaping to the back yard. Won't wear shoes. Takes off his pants all the time. Plays with poo. And Michael won't, won't, won't let me order him a Disney Princess cake for his birthday.
Michael and I aren't rocky.
(Finally.)
We're fuckin -married- mind you
(No, NOT literally)
so we argue and bitch and moan all the damn time.
But we lurve.
He's studying Eastern thought and working in the men's department of Dillards (laugh if you need to, my mom did).
I'm reading all the novels I can get my hands on because this semester off will be the catalyst for my first Great Work. *cough* I'm still on my tarot kick. And you haven't heard anything from me because a)I use my blog @ myspace, and b)This has been THE hardest GOD DAMNDEST semester of my entire damn LIFE. Yeah, I know some of you are taking Russian and shit, but Spanish with an eleven-month-old grabbing for your book and throwing tantrums is no piece of cake.
Oh and the whole campus thinks we're swingers, because we have big mouths and no shame. Score.