Dear Baby,
First of all, where are you? I swore earlier this week I had a baby bump, but now it’s shrunken away to just a bump sans baby. I’m kind of not complaining though since I’m so dreading the watermelon under my shirt phase. I’d also like to point out that I’m dreadfully emotional. Paying bills last night made me sob and ruin dinner.
The night before Daddy and I watched a show where a man and his dog, Cashew, were exploring the Amazon. They hit some rough rapids, were dumped out of the boat and separated. The man was hiking for two weeks looking for help in the unforgiving Amazon jungle, slowly starving and unable to eat because of a case of Malaria that
was attacking his body. He heard a noise in the jungle and thought it was a jungle
cat or something. Well Baby, it was Cashew, his beloved dog who had tracked him
faithfully through the jungle.
Cue tears.
But. But but but.
A week later Cashew was struck on the back of his furry head and killed by a machete wielding man. Who? His bastard owner that’s who. Oh. I can’t say that. No cussing Baby.
Seriously though he killed his own dog. And here’s the tragic part-the man couldn’t eat him because he was still so sick from Malaria! Cashew died in vain.
Cue waterfall of tears. Tears an hour later. Tears the next day.
Sooo emotional. Daddy was trying to soothe me last night and through my tears I pointed to my belly and said, “This baby better be worth it.”
Bad Mommy. Bad bad Mommy.
I do love you teeny Baby.
First of all, where are you? I swore earlier this week I had a baby bump, but now it’s shrunken away to just a bump sans baby. I’m kind of not complaining though since I’m so dreading the watermelon under my shirt phase. I’d also like to point out that I’m dreadfully emotional. Paying bills last night made me sob and ruin dinner.
The night before Daddy and I watched a show where a man and his dog, Cashew, were exploring the Amazon. They hit some rough rapids, were dumped out of the boat and separated. The man was hiking for two weeks looking for help in the unforgiving Amazon jungle, slowly starving and unable to eat because of a case of Malaria that
was attacking his body. He heard a noise in the jungle and thought it was a jungle
cat or something. Well Baby, it was Cashew, his beloved dog who had tracked him
faithfully through the jungle.
Cue tears.
But. But but but.
A week later Cashew was struck on the back of his furry head and killed by a machete wielding man. Who? His bastard owner that’s who. Oh. I can’t say that. No cussing Baby.
Seriously though he killed his own dog. And here’s the tragic part-the man couldn’t eat him because he was still so sick from Malaria! Cashew died in vain.
Cue waterfall of tears. Tears an hour later. Tears the next day.
Sooo emotional. Daddy was trying to soothe me last night and through my tears I pointed to my belly and said, “This baby better be worth it.”
Bad Mommy. Bad bad Mommy.
I do love you teeny Baby.
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