Don't cry, Angel Pants. Mommy's blogging again!
Yes, I'm alive. House is sold, new house is awesome, we move in just over four weeks.
And without even needing to say it, it's probably obvious that it's a tad, erm, busy around here.
Also, my social life is through the roof. I had no idea so many people would want to hang out with The Maven. I'm booked days in advance. Days! Me! I jump from one activity to the next, gremlins in tow. Coffee is normally abundant, as are beautiful sun rays which damage my skin in that golden pre-malignancy known to most as 'a tan'.
I want to write. I keep thinking I should and then I do something else, like pack, or watch Spawnling crawl (yes, crawl), or watch him pull himself up (yes, pull himself up), or cruise (yes... Do I really have to say it again, or have we realized by now that the boy is incredibly mobile? He turned seven months old on Saturday, which apparently gave him permission to grow up. I don't recall reading that clause in the contract...), or find out that my husband is taking a business trip to Toronto tomorrow, less than 12 hours after Gutsy threw an enormous tantrum because we wanted him to say 'please' at the dinner table.
It only took thirty minutes to break Gutsy's spirit this time. He's a wild stallion, that one, but my iron will is like the best horse whip ever. Made of... iron... and stuff.
Incidentally, I don't like the idea of whipping horses. Or children. Although sometimes the latter is fun to contemplate for a tempting moment or two.
I'm going to promise myself at least two or three posts a week. Two weeks without a post in Blogland is as long as the line of birthday candles on Joan River's birthday cake. I'm guessing that's about 104 years, give or take a decade.
We'll see who's still out there, periodically checking in to read my crap. I'm guessing that Creepy Walking Couple Man from my neighbourhood has found my blog, because he's frowning at me more than smiling as he and his wife walk by. He's probably upset that I haven't mentioned him lately. Perhaps he'll be flattered and dismiss the previous plans to make me their love slave.
Shudder. I don't know how I'm going to get any sleep whatsoever after that fear-inducing thought. Somebody hold me.
Barring that, you can buy me a latte. I like those.