Regrets

I may regret posting this picture for a number of reasons:  I think I posted it on here before, my weird blue bra is showing, I still have a gut in this pic from childbirth (albeit a tiny one compared to the gut I'm rocking now).  But I don't care that you see all those things... unless you are my employer.

But it absolutely blows my mind how small my Monkey was.  I know this is basic human growth- it happens to all of us and to our loved (and hated ones) but somehow it feels so different for me with regard to Monkey.  So much more personal. 

Sometimes I feel this way when I see a recent picture of my dad.  I think, "When did he become an old man?"  And then I feel sad.

I sometimes also think, "I am almost 30.  Holy sh*t."  And I feel overwhelmed.

Or at my old friend's wedding on Saturday, siting next to another old friend, I thought, "We've been friends since 5th grade.  When did our friendship become one of almost 20 years?  Wtf."  We all have the same dynamic that we had in elementary school.  Just more days gone by.  And the mystery of the french kiss is gone. For the sake of anxious prepubescent girls everywhere, I wish the act of fre*nch kissing never existed. 

If it is not clear to you, today, I am feeling as old as a grandmother. 

It is on days such as these (or nights, rather) that I wish we never got Louie fixed and that I could breed her with another beagle and realize my dream of grandbeagles.  I feel as though it would be appropriate. 

On to a lighter topic- See my bedroom walls? Ugh.  I hate them.  They are wallpaper.  J & I bought all the wallpaper removal stuff at Lowe's a month ago but we got sidetracked by work and Monkey's big-girl room. 

I have to get back to work now.