Woke up this morning feeling freakishly nostalgic. Decided to look through my Photobucket account...mistake. The mistake was thinking that pictures could satiate my emotions, when I am pretty sure it made them worse.
Picture number 1 ~ Pre-baby awkwardness. Plus Rod Stewart-esq hair...which I did love. That is baby Ava...I was not a baby person, and I am not sure who conned me into holding her.
Picture number 1 ~ Pre-baby awkwardness. Plus Rod Stewart-esq hair...which I did love. That is baby Ava...I was not a baby person, and I am not sure who conned me into holding her.
Picture number 2 ~ The things I had to stop doing. Well, do less of. Actually, do less of, publicly.
Hot mess, anyone?
Picture number 3 ~ Hot mess prevention by straight up baby intervention.
Picture number 4 ~ The guy that put a baby in me. He seems questionable, I know. He turned out all right. I still like him, alittle.
Picture number 5 ~ Nothing like being in excruciating pain for 18 hours, waiting on 8 pounds, 13 ounces of someone to shoot out of your vagina like a cannon.
Picture number 6 ~ How does something look so perfect, the very next day, after exiting the place where pee comes out of? Unbelievable. Unbelievable that I had a baby, unbelievable that we made perfection, unbelievable that pearls aren't the only beauties that come from clams.
Now, that duck wearing babe is an almost three year old whirlwind who can make his own toast. He is adored and loved beyond all measures.
My most beautiful babydoll.
He doesn't come out where pee does.. The same building not the same apartment.. nancy..
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