Post 26: Race Update

36: 47! That's not as good as my time last year, but way better than my times in the races I ran while pregnant. It was perfect running weather -- about 62 degrees and sunny. The race venue was not that great. They switched locations because of overcrowding so the route went through the bowels of the seaport, including Seaport Boulevard that stunk of well, seafood.

I feel pretty good about myself. Yes, I was slower. Yes, I have a mom belly. Yes, I will always think I need to: lose weight, eat better, exercise more, etc. Today, though, I am a-okay.

The MG took pics.

Pre-race, wearing my super-flattering XXL UPenn sweatshirt purchased at my brother's graduation. I tell myself that it wasn't that long ago and that I don't need new workout wear, but...it worked out well during pregnancy.



Zygote, not so impressed by having to be out in the cold.



Post-race.



Congrats on this beautiful day!



Slightly happier now that the food source has returned.

Post 25: Zygote's Letter

Say what you will about Dooce, I love/d that she wrote her kid a monthly letter. YG and I had this plan to faithfully update our journal for Zygote, but things didn't quite work out that way. Here are excerpts from the three month one, and I have to say that these updates would be much easier to write if she wasn't staring at me and shouting every time I dare to turn my head and pay attention to anything else.

Dear Zygote --
You are now 3 months old, or 15 weeks and one day to be exact. Sometimes, I can't remember what it was like before you. We had a tough first month, but right now, most of my time spent with you is a joy. You still have moments when you scream bloody murder and I can't figure out how to comfort you. Then I have this crazy cocktail of emotions ranging from helplessness to anger to fear because I'm afraid that I'm not doing this mother thing right, that I SHOULD know what to do to make you feel better.

The crying moments are few and far between, though. Most of the time, you give me these huge grins and giggle when I make up songs for you. Our days are pretty lazy. I usually feed you in bed in the mornings and then we play and I watch t.v. while feeding you again. Afternoons, we'll go out for a run or walk to Harvard Square and I'll get a cupcake and bring you to the bookstore.

When you're older, I hope that I have more friends with kids for you to play with. We go to mommy and me group (barf at that name, you'll understand in time) every week and may make some new friends, but for now, I'm content with it being just us. And your dad. He's still my favorite person in the room, and I hope you'll see how cool he is when you grow up.

Next week, I go back to work. I am not looking forward to it. There is nothing wrong with my job, but I have no connection to the work that I do. I am unimportant. And have mixed feelings about leaving you to work that doesn't mean much. Still, work, and earning your own money, is important. When you grow up, you can be anything you want to be, and I encourage you to be selfish -- you are allowed to find that job that you love. I'm going to keep searching for that because I want to be a good role model for you. I know that I will miss you when I'm gone, but know that I'm never really GONE. I'm always with you.

Love,
Mama

Post 24: Running Blah Blah

I'm running my first race post-Zygote tomorrow morning. I am excited, nervous, insert adjective of your choice. I ran this race last year at my best time, 10:35 per mile, and I'm pretty sure there's no way I'm going to beat that. A little sad, but then I remember I couldn't really WALK three months ago. My goal is to run the whole thing without stopping.

It's been nice getting back to running. Earlier in the week, I took Zygote down to Kendall Square and ran the 2.7 miles along the river back to Harvard Square. The stroller weighed about a thousand pounds, and the wind was right in our face, but still, totally glorious. She slept and I rewarded myself with a cupcake.

In other running news, I decided to switch up my sneakers. I had been totally devoted to Saucony Triumphs, but read that ASICS Nimbus were also good for under pronators. YG swears by ASICS, so I'm trying them out. So far, I'm neutral. They feel much stiffer than the Sauconys, but maybe it's because I'm just not used to them. I threw away my faithful green machines, otherwise known as the Saucony Triumph 4. They were my second pair of Sauconys, but I logged the most miles with them and really got into running at that time. Still, small apartment = no space for tons of old running sneakers littering the floor.

Wish me luck.

Post 23: Things I Wish I Did More of This Summer

The theme of the day seems to be social awkwardness.

There's no easy way to say this, but I wish I had more friends. If you are reading this, you're probably a friend a therefore exempt. I was hoping that a summer off with a baby would magically get rid of the social awkwardness and that I'd be going out on lots of play dates, meeting other people with kids. My mommy groups have been great, and I've been able to meet lots of new women, but I never seem to be able to make that transition from meeting at a particular place and time to "hey, let's go out for coffee." I see these women in the neighborhood all the time, and we chit chat, so I seem good at making acquaintances, but not friends.

How DO you make friends as an adult? As a kid, it seems like you are constantly thrown in these situations where you get to meet other people or you can just go knock on someone's door and ask if they want to ride bikes. And then there's college where everyone knows no one, so you naturally gravitate toward people like you. After college, though, there's work and....?

A friend of mine moved to a new city with her family and made up business cards with her contact information that she gave to people that she thought were cool. She recreated a whole network of friends and acquaintances within a few months. I admire someone that can do that and can naturally go out and meet people, but the idea of me doing it makes me just cringe.

Still, Zygote at least gives me a conversation starter, so we're going to try another group today and see if we can make a friend.

Post 22: Additional Dumb Shit That I Say

In trying to pay attention to the "likes," I've noticed an overabundance of "it's kind of funny..." followed by stories that are not actually funny and aren't meant to be funny. It's the modern girl's version of "no offense."

Post 21: Networking

YG and I went to a networking event downtown last night. Our dinner plans were cancelled and we already had a babysitter lined up, so we figured what the hell. Networking is one of those words that makes me cringe. I know you need to do it to find jobs. I know that you're more likely to get a job from someone you know. And I know that you need to meet people in order to get to "know" them. I know all this stuff, and I still hate it.

Networking brings out the worst of my social awkwardness and brings me back to my middle school days when you wonder who you're going to sit with at lunch. At these events, I always assume that everyone knows each other, is easily carrying on tons of scintillating conversation, and does not want an interruption from a dorky outsider. It's worse going with YG because he's Mr. Big Man on Campus and a relentless networker -- he has a natural kind of social ease and can get even the most boring and awkward people to talk. I usually stall out after "what do you do" and "what do you want to do." I then mumble my way into the "where are you from" and eventually land on the weather, where most conversations go to die.

It actually wasn't that bad. We set a goal of collecting five business cards before we walked in, and I work well with goals. I had a glass of wine so that I'd have something to carry and lubricate myself to be a little less lame, and I set off. I had lots of conversations with laid off investment bankers and people in the financial services industry, one fun conversation with a woman who had started her own event planning business, and only one painfully awkward one with a person in "educational leadership." A lot of the women talked about needing to find something more flexible because they have kids which was expected, but still depressing. YG rescued from a conversation with some douchebag financial analyst obviously looking to pick up women, and then we left and had dinner "al fresco" at Upstairs on the Square.

Overall, it wasn't that bad. Knowing that YG was there and watching me forced me into conversations, as opposed to hiding out in the bathroom. I had a lot of trouble answering the question, "so, what do you want to do?" I really have no idea. I still like PR, but I know it's time for me to get out of high tech. Suggestions welcome.

Post 20: Reading I Have Enjoyed This Summer

The best part about being home with Zygote this summer was that I had more time to read than normal. My summer list included:

1. Cconsider the Lobster: And Other Essays by David Foster Wallace -- When DFW died, I felt like a bit of an ass because he is supposedly one of the voices of my generation and I hadn't read anything by him. The title essay was fantastic, but the piece on John McCain's 2000 bid was even better. I now want to tackle Infinite Jest.

2. Mother Shock: Loving Every (Other) Minute of It by Andrea Buchanan -- My friend, Sarah, sent this to me when I had Zygote saying that it helped her through the early weeks of motherhood. I read this collection of essays my first few weeks with Zygote, while she slept on our walks through the neighborhood. It took me forever to finish it because she screamed a lot during those weeks, but I found it infinitely relatable.

3. The Man of My Dreams by Curtis Sittenfeld -- Light beach read. I loved Prep, so I was expecting more, but this was nice for Long Island.

4. The Hour I First Believed by Wally Lamb -- As with all his books, I adored this. It took a while to get going, but it was worth it. The characters are so developed and the plot details are intricate. It could be cheesy, but it never is.

5. The Emperor of Ocean Park by Stephen L. Carter -- The best way I can describe this book is ....interesting? A few friends gave it rave reviews, but because I don't normally like mysteries, it sat on my shelf for three years. I still don't know if I liked it, but it was 672 pages and I couldn't put it down. That's saying something.

6. Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and for Those Who Want to Write Them by Francine Prose -- This is normally the kind of book that I love. I'm a big fan of reading about doing things as opposed to actually doing them. I liked the focus on sentences and paragraphs, getting back to grammar basics, since it's something that I'm terrible at. I also liked the examples, but had a hard time relating to passages that I hadn't read before. It's not a guidebook, though. Another plus is that I now have another list of books that I'd like to read, including giving Chekov another shot.

7. The Ten-Year Nap by Meg Wolitzer -- I haven't finished this yet, but it also falls under the category of Books That I Am Not Sure I Like But Still Can't Put Down. It's about a group of friends who all gave up their careers to raise their children and what they are thinking and feeling ten years in. I don't particularly like the characters and find them very snooty and whiny and over educated and navel gazing. But, cough, also highly relatable.

I'm hoping to tackle a few more in the next week, and of course, keep it up once I return to work.

Edited to add: Relatable is not really a word? See above about grammar and me.

Post 19: Does This Count?

I laughed out loud.
And then cringed a little because I am such a corporate yuppie.

Protect Insurance Companies PSA from Will Ferrell

Post 18: I Don't Know What to Write About

That isn't entirely true, but I feel like I would need a novel to get into everything swirling around in the brain right now. I know that I want to write about how conflicted I feel about going back to my job (not about working, but going back to work that I don't feel that passionate about and that I'm not doing particularly well at). I also want to write about the first three weeks after we brought Zygote home from the hospital because I'm finally far enough away from that to talk about it. And I want to write more about Zygote.

But all of that stuff is HEAVY. No queef stains or fart waffles in that.

Please leave suggestions in the comments section if you would like to hear me rant on a particular topic. I think that would actually be a good job for me -- ranting.

For now, I'll go back to walking around with bluebirds on my shoulder and rays of sunshine coming out of my ass.

Post 17: Found Items That Bring Back Good Memories

While I was in New Jersey last weekend, I found the perfect item that provided a snapshot of a brief few months of my life. I have been using the same planner format from Daytimer since I started college. It's the one page per day format, and if they ever discontinue it, this whole facade of an organized life will crumble.

I was searching around for something to read while waiting for my parents' impossibly slow computer to load, and I found my planner circa 1997. On the outside, there were two stickers for Mil Mulliganos and Too Hectic, and inside, flipping through the planner pages, I found:

1. Directions to Wilmington, North Carolina and a phone number for the Fountain Motel. BB and I drove down to the WE Fest to watch Mil Mulliganos and The Sidedoor Johnnies perform that summer. We were also running from the roommate incident from Hell. Both of were all hung up about making sure that we had a place to stay with a pool and found the motel online. After a full day of driving, we found the motel and the pool AND the Interstate and the gas station both were next to. If you leaned on the headboards in that place, you would stick.

A quick Google search informs me that the WE Fest still exists and is described as "an artist driven celebration of up and coming musicians and independent culture, featuring more than 70 bands from around the country and the world." It should not be confused with the other WEFest, some sort of country music event.

I have pictures from this trip, and I am always wearing platform sandals. Also, a green floral bikini with boy shorts. Disturbing. I also remember a night at a bar where some idiot told BB she looked like Tori Spelling. She does not.

2. Plane ticket stubs to Chicago. I took a number of trips to Chicago to visit my then boyfriend. He was living with his band. He supposedly had an air mattress, but it was really a pool raft. I slept on the raft because that's what you do when you are cool enough to have a boyfriend in a band and you get to fly out and visit him. I also remember their favorite bar in the neighborhood and the cool people that worked there.

3. A big "21" scrawled in marker across the page for my birthday. The Mulliganos were back in Syracuse, playing at Chuck's. At midnight on Sept. 4, we went down to Armory Square so that I could have my first legal beer and then some. On my actual birthday, I wore a polyester leopard print shirt and two of the roommates from 850 made me a big leopard 21 that I wore as a necklace. I drank a lot of beer. The insane roommate fell off our porch and bit off part of her tongue. I have a picture of NN and KL in our house, looking all "are we dating or just hanging out?" Now they're married with two kids.

4. Postcards from different art students that lived in the Red House. I thought my life would be complete if I could be "arty" enough to be considered for The Red House. I still have a plastic beer cup from one of their last parties. It's a frat house now.

5. A post-it note that says "hand in assignment to Hubbard." Hubbard was one of our magazine professors and I believe he was my advisor for a while. NN and I were in a class together with a number of other women named Jennifer and a few faces from the Feminist Collective. He called us the coffee clatch because we all sat together.

I really miss college sometimes.

Post 16: Health Care Debate vs. The Anus Bandit

I like to think that I'm a fairly intelligent person. I watch the news. I read the paper. I'm somewhat well-informed. I had a dream about a brilliant post that I was going to write concerning the healthcare debate and how I see this more as a moral issue than a political one. It was super -- clear, articulate, etc. All the things I was hoping that this blog would be.

And then I spent more time than necessary flipping through Creative Cursing: A Mix 'n' Match Profanity Generator, and anything intelligent I had to say slipped out the window. YG's niece received this book as a 21st birthday present, and we got such a kick out of it that I made a special trip to Urban Outfitters to buy our own copy. The fact that it's stocked at Urban Outfitters should tell you that I am too old for this shit.

Still, YG and I laugh so hard that we now have a word of the day. Last night's was anus bandit. Say it with me -- anus bandit. Awesome.

Other recent favorites:
Fart Waffle
Rectum Diddler
Queef Stain
Boob Licker

Some people end up with book deals because of their blogs. I suspect this will not happen with anything that includes an anus bandit.

Post 15: Like More Dumb Shit That I Say

A list of other idiotic phrases I've noticed myself saying in my attempts to speak like a literate adult.

1. Yeah, but....
When there's a break in the conversation for a bit. It's my version of "as I was saying."

2. I mean...
Of course I mean it. I'm saying it.

3. Literally...
Incorrectly.

4. Dude, totally...
I do not surf.

5. Ya know?

6. It's like...
A like, but somehow more annoying.

7. Do I even need to mention the swearing? You know me.

WHY DID YOU PEOPLE NOT TELL ME THAT I SOUND LIKE AN ILLITERATE OAF?

Like seriously, in my head, I sound much smarter. Dude.

Post 14: BREAKING NEWS REPORT -- Foot Discovered in Suburban New Jersey

Whippany, NJ -- Two feet were discovered earlier this morning after several unsuccessful attempts to locate them.

The discoverer, a three month old child named Zygote, located the feet at approximately 9:01 a.m. ET this morning. She described the event as "gaaahh.."
Onlookers noted that she seemed quite proud of the achievement, with continuous shouts and smiles.

Attempts to place the feet in the child's mouth have been unproductive thus far.

Post 13: Like Seriously with the Likes

If you're a friend of mine on Facebook, you most likely saw the video that my good friend, SKB, posted of Zygote doing...well, nothing. Zygote is staring, immobile, and SKB and I are talking in the background. SBK is, as usual, hilarious and in between my own daily 5 minutes of funniness, I noticed a horrible, glaring defect. Like a totally awful defect like. Like it was totally like gross.

My love of "like."

I've long known that I use the word "like" way too often. I took a public speaking class to try and help with it and I try to catch myself. But it always slips in. "Like" has replaced "said" in almost all my stories and it's become a replacement for all my other "ums," "uhs" and "ya knows." I was hoping that people couldn't notice, or that if they did, they were so utterly taken with my wit and charm that they let it slide.

Then I saw that video, and holy shit, am I mortified. I sound RIDICULOUS. I am 33 years old and I used the phrase "like, oh my god" for real. I have a Masters Degree. In Communications. Something is not right here.

I asked YG for his opinion on me and my likes, and when his response was "honestly?" I knew that I have a serious problem here. He says that it is fairly rampant, but because I make up for it with that aforementioned wit and charm, it's just one more of my lovable quirks. Hmmmm....He says he notices it most when I "prattle." Hmmm again. He's not an asshole, and even if I tried, there's no way I could convince the world that Mr. Eagle Scout/Good Citizen of the World YG was an asshole. I appreciate him because he will give an honest opinion, and when he says that I should work on something because it could be holding me back, I know it's the truth.

So...I'm working on it. And it's hard. Now I stop talking when I catch a "like" so instead of just sounding like an idiot, I now sound like an idiot with a speech impediment. Progress, not perfection.

The world would be so much easier if I didn't need to communicate with other humans.

Post 12: Three Months and 9/11

Zygote is three months old today. It seems weird to celebrate on a date that will always be associated with something bad. More on that in a bit.

First, Zygote is fabulous. She has grown into an engaging little person that I enjoy spending time with. She has crazy big eyes that follow you around a room, and even though I know it's not possible, I imagine that we are communicating when we stare at each other -- that we GET each other. She likes grabbing at things, especially her purple dinosaur, and everything goes immediately into her mouth. I suspect that my laissez faire attitude about germ prevention is going to have to change soon or else she's going to end up with Ebola or some other insane disease. We still go for walks every day and have a routine where we walk down to Harvard Square, browse the bookstores, get a cupcake and then have a feed on Cambridge Common. I'm sad that this will change once the weather gets colder and I have to go back to work. We've traveled quite a bit with her and she mainly sleeps in the car, but will kick her feet a bit when the music plays. The Beatles are a favorite, along with Fiona Apple and Cat Power. She screams when she's tired and hungry, and well, so do I. Or I wish I could. Basically, I love her to pieces and can't imagine her changing, but I'm looking forward to those changes too.

Second, her three month anniversary marks the 8 year anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. It's hard to imagine that my child will have no understanding of a pre 9/11 world. YG said the other night, "I hate the post 9/11 world."

I was watching the coverage this morning and had to turn it off. It was always devastating, but now, having Zygote and imagining all those people who lost their children...it feels different. I couldn't quite handle it.

I'm back in Whippany again which is where I was on 9/11. I was living in Brooklyn at the time and had made it in to work to watch everything unfold on t.v. I couldn't get back to my apartment so I stayed in Whippany, waiting in the house by myself until my parents came home.

I tried to write a story about my experience of that day for one of my classes, but the feedback that I got was that I lost my voice -- that it wasn't funny and it wasn't me. I have a really hard time trying to figure out how you write a funny 9/11 story, but when the teacher asked me why I chose to wrote about 9/11, I told her that this dumb fuck that I work with was chastizing me for allowing the MG to ride the T because "you know, 9/11." I guess I was extremely animated in retelling the story and how I tore this woman a new one, and the teacher suggested I write about that or at least my animosity toward a certain breed of suburban woman who won't allow her child to play in the yard or take a dump by himself lest there be terrorists lurking around somewhere. I don't know. It still seems wrong. It seems wrong to even write about it here.

I do know that I will never forget, and maybe that's all that is important. I don't need to retell it.

Post 11: Birthday Weekend

For someone feeling kind of maudlin at the start of the weekend, it ended up being fab.

Zygote's present to me was sleeping until 5:30 on Friday night, allowing me to function unlike the walking dead on my actual birthday. We packed up the car and headed out to Walden Pond where we found a spot under the trees. YG and I took turns laying on the blanket, playing with Z and reading, and swimming in the water with the MG. It was a perfect summer day -- blue sky, not too hot and the water temperature was "warm" by New England standards. I left feeling warm and freckly, my favorite summer feeling.

After returning home, YG took the girls out for a walk and I went and got a pedicure, a screaming pink color. The woman at the salon remembered that I was getting a I'm-going-to-have-a-baby pedicure the last time I visited and told me how nice I looked. Win! I spent the rest of the afternoon in a quiet house, journaling and drinking wine. YG and the girls came home with a bouquet of sunflowers and hydrangea (my favorite) and we went out for Indian food and people watching in the Square. Followed by cupcakes and the MG's presents at home. She gave me a beautiful pair of earrings and a "to-do list" pad, a gift after my own heart. YG's present would come later.

On Sunday morning, YG gave me time to get in a 2.5 mile run before church and brunch. His sister came over for babysitting duties at 2:30, and he wisked me off to my surprise destination. I asked what we were doing. His response, "what are two of your favorite things?" Well, eating, obviously, and shopping. It pains me to write that. I feel like I should say that my favorite things include visiting art galleries and attending poetry readings and debating philosophy with my professorial friends. And, true, I do like those things, but dudes, I'm from Jersey. I LOVE the mall.

So, we went to the mall, or the Boston equivalent, the Prudential Center. YG knew that I needed a dress for his sister's upcoming wedding and some back-to-work clothes. Most of my clothing post-Zygote is weirdly ill-fitted, and I was hating on my mom pooch and hips and anything else I could think of to bitch about. He escorted me from store to store, helping me pick out dresses, sitting patiently while I tried them on and offering decent advice. We left with one beautiful Calvin Klein dress for the wedding, a pair of jeans sans elastic waist band, a courderoy blazer, two sweaters and a scarf. I was giddy, and felt good about myself. He really is the best gift giver ever.

We had martinis and then dinner at Top of the Hub and were back home by 8:30 p.m. Not a rock star evening, but a great one regardless.

Today, he went biking and I went running again and we took the girls out for lunch again. Now we're all just lounging around, basking in hangover of a long weekend.

This Is What A Relationship Looks Like: Accent Edition

Lying in bed, playing with Zygote, who is immune to all of our tactics to make her laugh:

SG: Z, why are you so humorless this morning?
(Z stares)
YG: Because she's missing the "h" in humorless.
(Glare)

Hahhhhhumorless.

Post 10: Thirty Three

I haven't been looking forward to this birthday. I haven't been dreading it either. It's just there. Thirty three. It's not a milestone birthday or anything special -- it's just, to be over dramatic, a marker that another year has passed. I sometimes wake up and think, "how did I get to be this old?" Not that 33 is old, but I feel like I should FEEL older in some ways, and most of the time, I still feel like a kid in adult clothes.

So, a gratitude list if you will, of things that are working for me at 33:
* My beautiful girl and the successful, interesting pregnancy and labor that brought her here
* YG
* the MG
* my family, as far away as they are
* a great apartment in a fabulous city
* running again
* reading lots of books during my time off
* dribs and drabs of writing
* an uneasy truce with how I look
* my other two children, the cats
* summer nights in Davis Square
* and countless other everyday moments that would be uninteresting to most people but me

The big hole is that I feel largely...unfinished. My return-to-work date is now looming over, and I dread going back. It has absolutely nothing to do with the job or the people. The work is fine, and I actually really love my coworkers. I just feel like I've wasted over a decade doing work that I don't enjoy and that the time is slipping away. And that if I don't figure out something else to do soon, it won't be a decade that I wasted, but rather a life. Most of you that read know that I've been complaining about the same thing for years, but with each passing year, it seems more urgent. And it caught up to me, to some extent. In my horrible-for-many-reasons review this year, I was asked, point blank, "Do you even want to be here?" There is no problem with my work or my work ethic. The problem, I was told, is that people get the sense that I don't want to be there and it's that -- this weird lack of commitment to the fact that this IS my life and my job -- that is keeping me stuck in the bowels of middle management. It hurt. Because it was unbelievably true.

YG scolds me when I say that I have "wasted" a decade of my life and reminds me of all the things that I have accomplished. I also remind myself that it took a while to get the other things that I am truly grateful for like a husband that I respect and who treats me well, and a place to live where I truly feel comfortable. It took me the better part of a decade to figure those things out, and it's going to continue to take time to figure out where I belong work-wise.

The good thing is that 33 doesn't feel too old. I feel like I have a good balance between wondering how the hell I ended up an adult and feeling like 33 is still just the beginning of a lifetime, that I have time to work things out and navel gaze a bit more.

Post 9: But I Am Running

Ah, yes, a running update. I'm back up to 3 miles a couple of times a week. My first race is the last weekend in September, and I'm signed up for a 10K on Oct. 12. I highly doubt I will be able to run the whole 10K, but we'll see. I don't love the jogging stroller, but it's better than nothing. It's more of a pain in the ass to time my runs with my boobs and Zygote's nursing schedule. I won't even get into the gladiator wear I need to put on to keep those boobs in place.

Post 8: These Days

There are days when I really don't know what the hell I am doing. They were there before baby, but since Zygote's arrival, the frequency has definitely increased. I really don't have much to do during the day beyond feed baby, walk baby, feed cats, and bathe myself, and that last one isn't necessarily a necessity. Occasionally, I try and pull a meal together and there's always a mountain of laundry to do.

Still, I should be able to accomplish this stuff and have room for other things as well, no?

Today, I had grand plans to run to Staples to fax off some things, pick up cat food, go for a walk or a jog with the jogger, finish thank you notes, put away the laundry and maybe shower. Exciting. I still couldn't figure out how to get it done. Zygote seems to be teething early so today was a scream-all-day kind of day. I didn't take a shower until 6:30 p.m. with the baby screaming in the bouncy seat on the bathroom floor, and I'm now eating cold leftovers and desperately trying to get the house in some kind of order so that YG doesn't come home from his business trip and wonder why I'm such a sloth and what I was doing all day.

Two steps forward, one step back, right? And the writing? Well, it's not really happening. I feel like I'm too close to the baby stuff to write about it, and everything else seems so abstract right now.

I think I need a glass of wine.