Who in holy hell sold me the delicious bowl of crack I was smoking when I thought that minding a 21 month old while 37 weeks pregnant would be preferable to / easier than two measly hours a day of commuting (mostly spent on my ass) holding fort around a whole day sitting on my ass doing nothing? Because MY ASS, at the very least, would like an explanation.
Good, but exhausting weekend. At least we made cupcakes. That seems to have appeased the ass. (and greatly delighted the kid) But for how long? Yes, OK. That’s two questions. You don’t have to answer the second one; I’m sure if you continue to follow the adventures of the cheeseblog, it will become clear (as in, gin-clear) how long a newly staying-at-home-mom can coast her ass’s good graces on cupcakes, cow sprinklets or no.
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