I've had so much to blog about (graduating, moving, feeling the baby get hiccups for the first time), but so little to say.
I think it might be January's fault. Winter-after-Christmas is tough and ugly. Even this January, when I feel particularly pleased and optimistic about my life, I've noticed that so many people are going through rough times. I know people who are terribly lonely or sick or discouraged or heartbroken.
Knowing all those people, I feel silly saying Yay! Look! My new house is so pretty! And I got to spend the longest Christmas break with my perfect husband! And look what I've made to decorate the baby's nursery!
I get like this sometimes—feeling guilty for being happy amidst sorrow. I think it's counterproductive. Walking around with a mopey face doesn't make the sorrowful feel better. When I'm sad, the best thing my husband can do is hug me and crack a joke.
I wish I could hug the world. I wish I were funny.
Oh, my poor baby girl. If she's half as emotional as her mother, we might have to put her in time-out for melodrama.