May 13, 2008

  • Bittersweet

    So as you can see by the previous post, I’ve tried Xanga Themes. Hated it. Changed it back. How else can I get the same obnoxious looking page with any other layout? The answer: I can’t. Therefore, suffer from my hot pink font! HAA!

    I’ve  been wondering over social politics lately. How is it we can abort babies inside the womb, but not kill them outside? I mean, we’ve kinda gotten it backwards, haven’t we? Sounds horrible, but bear with me:

    Inside the womb, the baby is quiet, doesn’t need a diaper change, eats whatever it’s given without complaint sleeps all night long and doesn’t wake you with screams in the wee hours of the  morning.

    Outside the womb, not so great. I love my babies, but frequently threaten to strangle them. They’re noisy, messy, dirty, untimely, clingy…. *sighs* Cute. Every mom has a built in “acceptance chip”. We’re robots who are programmed to love insanity. Yes, even this pureed meat covered grossness:

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    Therefore, when you were a two year old monster, your mother (while fighting against her instinct to strangle you) was looking fondly at a milk-spill on the floor  saying, “Awwww, you didn’t mean to do it.”

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    It sounds strange. I  was a single girl just a few years ago, disbelieving that I’d ever feel this way about a midget-sized human being. But then again, I also hadn’t  tried sticky toffee pudding. There was so much I didn’t know I could love back then.

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    You little turd. You scream at me if I’m two minutes too slow bringing you your bottle and yet as soon as it’s in your mouth and you’re contentedly (quietly) sucking on it, I’m thinking of how soft and sweet you are.  You shout ‘NO!’ at me regardless of the question I ask, and yet I keep asking you questions just to hear your tiny voice.

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    You pain in the butt who ruined my waistline, why do I know in my heart that I’d do it all over again for you…? You get peanut butter and cookie mush all over my CLEAN CLOTHES, so why do I accept it so easily?

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     Okay, okay. You’re cute. I guess I’ll keep you around for another year. 

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    But you’d better be a millionaire when you grow up.  

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