That is, for Charles. Today is Charles’ first Thanksgiving, and I have exactly ten minutes to write this blog.
I don’t do well on a time crunch, so you should not expect an Abe Lincoln Gettysburg Address. To set the expectations accordingly, you can look forward to a series of photos of Charles being cute, which will make up for the lack of content.
After ten months of being a mom, thirty-three months of being married, and forty-three months* of not being single, my blog traditions, including my “write a blog on Thanksgiving Day,” have ceased to exist. I’m really proud of myself for posting some photos AND feeding the baby, putting him down for a nap, doing the dishes, and drinking coffee. And I’ve only gotten sidetracked 14 times from writing this blog.
*I’ve always wondered why people refer to their children’s age in months, such as “17 months.” Like, couldn’t you just and say “a year and a half”? Now that I’m on the other side, I wholeheartedly blame the milestone committee, the mysterious governing board who decides that kids should reach milestones by a certain age. To you, I say, I have been in a relationship for forty-three months and YOU DO THE MATH.
My day looks a lot different from the Thanksgiving Days of yore.
My husband is at work, for starters–wait, I HAVE A HUSBAND?! How did that happen?–and while I could almost pretend I’m having my “single, Thanksgiving Day blog” tradition, complete with making hummus (which I did two days ago!), I can’t because:
My child just woke from his nap–that’s right, I HAVE A CHILD?! How did that happen?–and his first tooth is coming in, so he is particularly distressed. Life is hard, guys. I don’t think you know. Charles can tell you all about it.
So with that, I bid you adieu. I told you this would be brief, but as promised, here are photos to get you through the day.
May your Thanksgiving be full of joy, wonderment, and maybe something new…like a tooth.
They Call Me Fushilou 