I have to say, I am experiencing a weird problem. Life is good, child is only moderately frustrating once in a while when I’ve stupidly sacrificed sleep to watch crap television, so therefore not much fodder for the ol’ blog (the blog with the domain name I now pay for.) I mean I could write something if you really wanted me to. If you want a post about how much I love my squidgy pudding (baby) I could whip up some frothy, overly sentimental shmaltz for you, repeating much of what I’ve already said in new ridiculous ways. Any takers? Huh. I don’t hear a roar in the crowd. Odd. I figured I had more admirers … It’s not like everything is perfect, I…
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Well, there was a day a few weeks ago where all hell broke loose in The House of Huyghebaert. I didn’t know at the time but what was bothering our little shireling was a bout of the terrible teething baby rage. He was intolerant of everything that day. Food, air, hugs, love, diapers, stuffed toys, chew toys, bathes, outside, inside, it didn’t matter. Jonah was simply inconsolable and in the end so was I because even though I love him, I wanted to hurl him several feet away and not be responsible anymore. But, by the morning the next day I realized we had both survived, no worse for wear, so I rolled over and said “Good morning Satan,” and Jo jostled around in…
