They say that the heyday of the mommy blogger has passed. Not sure what the kids are into these days instead. Snapchat? Youtube channels? Posts communicated entirely by GIFs? Video killed the blogging star? Well, here I still sit, plugging away at posts that probably contributed to killing this medium. Because there was never a party I wasn’t a day late and a dollar short for.
Yesterday, I had an appointment with the high risk OB, so I actually had to put on real pants, makeup, and do something with my hair other than knot it up in the back and pretend it doesn’t exist. I’m not as adept at doing all this since I’m carrying around this watermelon and I’m out of practice. Also, I have a hard time finding clothing that doesn’t make me want to die. Jeans give me contractions and underwire bras are like the seventh circle of hell since I always carry so high. Leggings don’t really count as pants, so I have to find a top long enough to cover some expansive real estate in the rear. And I’m always behind on the laundry. And the girls have all had colds. My standards are low, but not venturing out in public covered in snot stains low. Needless to say, getting dressed was taking me longer than expected as the three older girls were downstairs presumably eating their breakfasts and watching Daniel Tiger.