E, Brutus, tiny E and I are all finally home after many, many long hours in the car and I have no plans to take my pajamas off ever again. I suppose eventually I’ll have to go out for milk or juice or something, but I refuse to shop at stores that frown on flannel pants. I frown on your ridiculously high expectations for pregnant women! You try getting your jeans on without falling over while you have three bowling balls strapped to your front. It is really hard.
E’s side of the family had a baby shower for me the day after Christmas so I now have an entire baby wardrobe complete with tiny socks, shoes and hats. I cannot stop staring at the titty bitty clothes and thinking what a BAD IDEA it is to put me in charge of something that small. I can’t even keep track of my digital camera.
In other news, either I’ve actually lost weight, my in-law’s house is on some sort of magnetic field that causes scales to register 5 pounds less or I’ve discovered an amazing Christmas-cookie-and-pie diet. I’m hoping it’s the third one, because I could really use another source of income right now. My baby might not end up naked but he still doesn’t have any sheets. Eh, I don’t think a lack of sheets ruins childhood. I’ll read this book I got for Christmas to make sure.