Earlier today I was discussing exercise with my sis-in-law. She's doing it; I'm not. We share a mutual dislike for gym-based activities like lifting, squatting, and anything involving a machine you have to wipe your sweat off of when you're done; but my personal aversion to physical activity extends beyond the gym and into my own home, where I dislike doing any other kind of exercise either. Sis told me she has found success lately with running - she's discovered it's the only thing she actually enjoys doing and feels good about afterwards. To which I said well, yeah... running is just walking, only faster.
I'm telling you this because it gave me insight into something else. It's totally unrelated to exercise, but just humor me here: I've thought a lot about this tonight, and I have realized... BABIES are PEOPLE, only SMALLER. It's true. And more specifically, baby GIRLS are merely very small, very bald WOMEN, which explains why Estie can be totally awesome one minute, and then totally SUCK the next, just like me! I mean she'll be crawling around, happy as a clam, chewing on a flip flop or something, and suddenly she'll sit up and just totally freaking SNAP, and start crying for no reason at all, balling her little fists up in red-faced ginger rage like a miniature lunatic. It's the baby version of PMS! And actually, it's exactly what my adult PMS would look like if I had no social filter or moral conscience. I'm kind of jealous, actually, of her complete emotional freedom. Can you imagine getting pissed off one day and just pooping your pants to spite everyone else in the room? I'd kill for that liberty. I'd also love to eat whatever I want and have everyone tell me how cute I am for getting fatter, but I digress. Basically what I'm saying, I think, is that my baby is the woman I wish I could be... only smaller.
|Mommy's little manic-depressive|