All I'm doing these days is bitching and wondering where the time went.* *I suppose this is not strictly true. We've managed to get our Xmas cards printed and stamped, so that's something. And I'm continuing down the path of baby-fying our lives--yesterday's pet project? Packing up a diaper bag. Do you have any idea how much crap goes into one of those things? I don't think I lugged that much crap around when I was in college!
And while mostly I'm bitching and wondering if I'm the big present that will be unwrapped for Christmas (truly, Christmas would be too early, but jeez, I gotta dream), I'm also finding all this loot that normally might bring bile to my throat but seems irresistible these days.
Case in point: while trawling a store looking for something for my husband, I saw a plush retro Tigger for the tiny tot. It had a built-in tractor beam, I swear! Latched on to my tummy and I was forced, FORCED to bring it with me when I left. Or maybe there was some psychic connection between the bun and the plushie and I was merely the tool to bring them together. Regardless, I'm positive that I had very little to do with the actual transaction; I was merely a pawn in the game. But when I showed my husband the Tigger, good grief, I got misty. Auuuugh! Now Tigger sits there, staring at me, chuckling to himself and I have to rub his plush fur every now and then to make sure he's really as soft as I thought he was in the first place (he is--BIG improvement in the plush goodness since I was tiny. I remember some stuffed animals were filled with this crap that resembled sawdust. Mmmmm. Comfy!)
But yes, most of my day is spent wishing that my tum would stop feeling abraded, with my hips screaming at me for a little relief. The bun himself seems content enough though--his feet are squarely planted under my right lung, where they have been for quite some time. He really, really likes it there.