I have a post all prepared, in my head, about stalking and neighbors and stalking your neighbors. It is on the tip of my cranium. Some words have even made it to the virtual page -- with photos! However I cannot share those words with you because someone has decided to grow. And growing is a small word to describe big happenings.
For you well rested laymen: when Baby Flails-a-lot grows she likes to drink mother's milk to the point that my throat closes like I'm three days in the Sahara. The only way to obviate this side effect is to chug liquids every frigging' hour on the hour. Gallons, not cups. Which has left me little in the way of writing time.
I've stopped putting her down because she's only going to take a 15 minute power nap and then decide she hates the curtains and needs more to eat. That's right, Baby Flails-a-lot has an eye for interior design AND the appetite of a sumo wrestler. I could say more but it's 4am and she's milk-tipsy, so I'm going to bed. She should be leveling out by tomorrow so wish me luck.
The stalking and mocking are coming!
And something witty, dammit.