After nearly a month of no posts, it will be miraculous if there are still readers hanging on to this dear old blog. Add to that the fact that my last post went down like a lead balloon loaded to the gills with lead and a basketful of cheesy, bad-spelling women who say things like "ttc", "babydance", "aunt flo", dumping babydust on unsuspecting infertiles below. Jesus, you try to maintain your cynicism after you pop a baby out of your vagina and this is what you get...
The bulk of my holiday was spent trying not to roll my eyes at my alleged well-meaning mother, but what would Christmas be without family-related drama? I am relieved that I can now live each day without hearing little nuggets of wisdom regarding P.'s development and her desperate need to have more tummy time. Christ on a bike, the number of times I had to weather comments like, "Make a wedge! Put her on her stomach or else she'll never be able to lift her head up! She'll need to have her head propped up on a stick mounted on her motorised wheelchair if you don't give her tummy time because she'll never have strong neck, arm and leg muscles!" Ok, perhaps I am paraphrasing a bit, but it's not too far off from what was actually said. At least 4 times a day. For 2 1/2 weeks.
I'm sure some of you will read this post just to find out if my flat ass was highlighted. Rest assured, dear readers, my mother did not disappoint. I was making P.'s lunch one day and my Mom, never one to ignore a flat ass, said, "You know, you have no butt at all." Sigh. She either has no recollection of her regular ass dissing, or she really wants to drive the point home so me and my flat ass look into implants, thus making her proud of me and my new ass once and for all.
Since telling funny stories of my Mom never gets old, I'll recount one from the night before she left. It almost made her tummy time and flat ass obsession worth it. The Dude was watching UFC, and the audience was panned to reveal Kid Rock. My Mom looked up from her ebaying of antiques and said in a I-think-I'm-so-sassy-and-up-with-the-street-lingo way, "He don't impress me much" and pursed her lips/grimaced in an "oh no girlfriend" kind of way, then went back to her ebaying. I was waiting for the accompanying finger snaps and head waving, perhaps with a talk to the hand motion, but alas, it was not to be. Through his attempt to suppress his laughter, The Dude said, "He's got the moves, but has he got the touch?", but my Mom didn't get it. Her response? "I don't care, he still don't impress me much." This woman is the origin of half of my genetics. Worry for me. Worry for P.
In other holiday-related news, the card exchange was an apparent success. Thanks again to everyone who participated. I hope you received many fabulous cards from fabulous places. I'm going to start working out now for next year's exchange. Rather than (flat) ass shots, I'm thinking along the lines of a tasteful nude.
Believe it or not, I have quite a few new posts brewing. Inspiration? Surely not! I'm planning on going back to my roots, discussing some IVF and PCOS issues (though not necessarily together) which will hopefully encourage those amongst you with no interest in baby-related bogging to emerge. Speaking of emerging, it's De-Lurking Week or whatever, I agree with DD in that it is a "blatant and self-effacing attempt to get one to comment", but I'll be a whore anyway. Specifically, if you are a lurker with a blog, let me know. I only have, like, 86 feeds on my Bloglines and I obviously need more. Hell, even if you lurk and don't have a blog, tell me about some blogs you like! It's like mutual comment masturbation. I get more comments, you get more traffic to your blog. That way we both leave satisfied. Ooo la la.