lung chunks

lung chunks

That's what I have.

Here is what I don't have:
1. time to myself, except for now, which will be interrupted by either a baby crying, or a child running in here whining about how they can't sleep.

2. time with my husband. I don't think we will ever have sex or fondle one another again.

3. time to call my friend back on the phone, she has called me twice this week and I keep saying "hafta call Jen... hafta call Jen..." and then I am running to get a bottle or change a diaper, or to the bathroom to try and void myself before I forget.

4. that's the other thing, time to void myself before I forget.

5. a new haircut, like I wanted to get after I had the baby.

6. a hairless body, I have not had time to shave. I am apey once again.

7. a body. my body is all mush. its all doughy. I keep singing "my thighs are like dough... my butt is like dough... my skin is like dough oooohh ohhhh..." to the tune of "My love is like whoah" by the singer Mya.

8. a healthy body- i have a nasty chest cold. yay.

9. a million dollars to buy me a nanny so I can take at least 2 hours to nap to myself once a day. That's all I want. I don't want to go shopping, or go to lunches with friends, I just want a fuckin' nap, dude. that be all.

10. sparkly shoes.

Don't ask about the last one. I couldn't think of anything.

I hope Munson baby doesn't get the cold this nasty ass family has. We are all hackers with lung chunks. Please, God, good God of all creation, don't let my sweet newborn get this nasty chest cold. I will be out of commision until New Years if he does get it.

Can someone hand me a drink?



"My mommy needs a drink... hand her one. Thanks"