24 Weeks

Today, Mama was a busy, busy bee.

But a bittersweet, busy bee.

A bitterbee?

Nope.

A bitbee?

Nope. Not it, either.

Ooooh--a sweetbee!

Doesn't exactly convey the combo of bittersweet and busy, but I guess some words ain't supposed to merge.

And do you know what else isn't supposed to happen?? My Baby Girl isn't supposed to be 24 weeks old! And I wasn't supposed to break my back today dissembling her baby swing and banana hammock that she slept in as a newborn. Waaaaaaah.

And I also wasn't supposed to give myself plastic burns trying to shove her bumper back into its original packaging (by sitting on it and cursing like a sailor) whilst trying not to wrinkle the ties that I took the time to iron before I got ready to put it away ('cause I'm OCD like that).

And I wasn't supposed to look at every, single, tiny, doll-like outfit that I had to pack away in a storage bin today, and wonder how in the world Baby Girl's cute little body was ever that small. Waaaaaaaah.

And she's not even six months, yet!! What will I do when she's sixteen months?!! Or--gasp, sob, sob, sob--sixteen YEARS old?!!

I think I'm gonna start binding her somehow. So she can't grow.

And so I can avoid plastic burns.

And emotional upheavals.