The Tank

Olive's new name is "Tank". Or "Bucket o' Lead". Or "Fatty McFat Fat". My child is currently growing at such a rate that I can eat whatever I want (nachos, pizza, brownies, Green & Black's chocolate, litres of cream) and she just sucks it out of me. During her epic nighttime feeds. Last night broke new records. I am fairly certain that she nursed for 89% of the night. Which is possibly why my neck feels broken and my eyelids feel like that episode of the Flintstones when Fred propped his eyes open with toothpicks. It's true.

And the CBC is talking about how my generation is financially up s*!t creek without a paddle.

Ya, tell me about it. Hmmm, between Doug and I we have 14 years of university and 1 or 2 of college and collectively we cannot afford to purchase a home. Except in Saskatchewan. Where we can't get jobs. And the mosquitos are bigger than my eye.

Sweet.

My mum and aunt are coming tomorrow. I can't wait. I have visions of accomplishing things (boring things, like cleaning the car and washing the floors - it has been SO long) while they entertain Olive. What will probably happen is I'll get nothing done because Olive will cling to me like a baby monkey. But on the positive side I can sit on my mum's lap and let her cuddle me like I'm the baby. And we'll play cards.

This picture makes me laugh every time! She was in a post-dinner, pre-bedtime mood that perfectly reflects how I feel most of the time.