My gray matter is feeling mushy and I don’t think I’ve got it in me to compose an actual post with real, live sentence structure and thought-out paragrahs, so I’m just going to let the words spill as they may.
After nearly a half-year of fighting the urge to chew off my fingernails and rip my cuticles to shreds with my teeth, I finally caved. Now my fingertips are raw and jagged and it hurts when I wash my hair. But I can’t stop biting the stumps, even though there’s nothing left of them.
I thought that the stench of Jolie’s formula poop was the worst smell ever, but since I’ve been eating a steady diet of rice, beans, apples, carrots, popcorn, and high fibre muffins, I think the fumes hotly seeping from my buttcrack have taken the lead. Mercy. It’s worth it though; I’ve lost five pounds this month.
January has essentially been a write-off. Anything I had been looking forward to got totally pooped on, everyone has been sick, and I haven’t slept in longer than four-hour increments. A really big shampoo bottle also fell on my nose in the middle of the night and it made me cry.
We still swaddle Jolie up tight like an overstuffed burrito every night (she won’t sleep if she’s not) but I am wondering how long it’s OK to keep on doing this. Any potential problems with swaddling a 13 year-old? Will she be unpopular at sleep-overs?
I entered a writing contest. I am not feeling especially hopeful, but perhaps there are good things waiting in February.
They say it’s common for children to regress when they’re ill. This is within the realm of normal, right?
Happy weekends to all!