Don't Worry, Be Happy!

I shall now proceed to redeem myself by writing only happy and silly things. (I mean, seriously, that last post was so whiny. I'd be amazed if any of you come back after that. Prolly nobody's reading this because I drove you all away with my inconsiderate whiny-ness.) I'll even sprinkle some pictures periodically to make it better.

First of all, let me warn you. If you intend to invite us over to your house (though I don't know why you would invite me over when you're in danger of being whined at to death), you will need to batten down the hatches, as it were. Lock up your valuables. Hide your kids and wives. No, I was kidding about that last one. But they'll probably be drooled on.

Yep, you guessed it. The Katie has now become mobile. And teething. Yes, also teething. She scoots about the house on her bum (almost crawling but still just scooting), leaving wet objects that she has gnawed on in her wake.

My mom is gonna need to fix her cabinet locks and such.

Also, I have decided that one of the contributors to my whiny-ness is my rather lack of . . . um, health. So I started working out more frequently in the mornings. I lie on the floor looking ridiculous doing ab workouts while Katie sits in her crib laughing at me. Yes, she laughs at me. She seems to think that my meager attempt at muscles is funny. Silly child. I'm not the one with elbow dimples.

Another, ironically, has been the long stretch since I have made real-live, actual cupcakes. I made some "cupcakes" that were more like brownie bites last week, but that doesn't count. Also, they were not cute. Not at all. I didn't even pipe the frosting. Heck, I didn't even spread the frosting. Just dumped a chunk on with a knife. And it wasn't really frosting.

So I have decided to make some s'more cupcakes (hehe, get it?). So much that I have even dreamt about making them. Oh, boy, they were tasty in the dream world. They gonna be SO good in real life. Mmmmm mmmmm. (The picture is of some banana split cupcakes I made a while ago. They were definitely scrumptious.)

Right now Katie is wearing a green jumper with big white polka dots and she kinda looks like a Mario Brothers' mushroom. If Sam jumps on her, he'd get thirty points. I better not tell him.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to!

First of all, let me say I'm sorry for being such a horrible person and making you wait seventeen years between blog posts. I'm a dreadful blog manager. It's just embarrassing.

Secondly, I've decided not to put up all of the pictures of my recent food adventures just yet because I've had many and this blog would quickly become not a witty--sometimes even snarky--blog about my delightful child and adventures, and become a food blog. All about cupcakes. With not words because as soon as I put up pictures of cupcakes I would decide that I needed a cupcake and go get my bakin' on in a serious way. And not write.

Maybe next time I'll do a catalog of recent cupcakes. And then ditch them on this blog forever. Or at least for a week.

Anyway, the inspiration for my title lyric is, well, Katie. The little poop has had quite the emotional week. And, dreadful as it is, I believe that it began with me. Horrible mommy that I am, I took her last Monday to get her shots. I know, I know, she's seven months old and I'm a total slacker, but now she won't get pertussis or pneumococcal meningitis or anything like that. Which is probably a good thing.

But then, she decided she was going to actually exhibit symptoms this time around. For all of her other shots, they told me the whole "she may have a slight fever and such and such and tylenol and blah blah blah call us blah blah blah." And I was like, whatevs. My baby is superwoman. So of course, she actually got kind of feverish and cranky and yelled at me when I touched her legs for the next few days. Totally blew me away.

And THEN, she stopped sleeping at all at night. Remember that one time how she stopped sleeping through the night this summer and hasn't taken more than three real naps for the last three months? Well, when she's feverish, it gets worse. I may never sleep again.

And don't let it fool you that she's on the floor behind me giggling and saying "bah bah bah da dla dla ga go go rara!" That's all totally a ruse. She's really a plotting little twerp who is secretly thinking "hehehe, what can I do now to make sure my mommy is never productive again? Buahahahaha!"

Also, this baby is never going to learn how to crawl or walk or anything if my siblings can help it. I guess that part I can wait for.