To know what a dire situation I’m in, all you have to do is check out my Instragram feed. Or lack thereof, lately.

I just had a friend ask where the F I’d been on Insta and I straight up had a moment of silence, trying to rack my shrinking brain of what the F she meant.

Oh, right, that prior interweb feed addiction I had before I found out I was part of the human genome project. No time for it, People. No place for it, at the moment.

Suddenly I can’t look at any meaningless picture and try to make it meaningful. Truly, it’s kind of amazing when you tihnk about it … people posting pictures of shit like look at my dessert! Or, loooooove this dress!

Up until not that long ago, I was one of those People. And I hope I will be again soon. I am definitely missing The Love from The Universe showing up. I think I’ve been too depleted of all energy to even notice them.

I swear, at some point I’ll be fun again. And I might not even mention this thing called a f-ing baby in me. But for now you have to allow me this indulgence because I haven’t been able to say anything to you guys since the GD 17th of August and that might as well be five years in my book.

Omg. Do you think I’m going to go all Mommy-Blogger on you guys?! Nah. I think I’ll be too real for that. Obvs it’s going to be about some mommyness up in here but trust me People — I have no illusion to walking some picturesque field of baby/motherhood roses.

I’m just hoping I won’t be afraid of my Taurus baby. Babies are kind of terrifying. They cry and you have no f-ing idea why and you’ll do any song/jig/dance to try to appease them while making a complete ass out of yourself. Over and over and over again.

Tell me that won’t be me.