I know. It’s been a while. I had stuff to do. Like, get pre-eclampsia and have a kid three and a half weeks early. Don’t be mad. I’ll try not to be so negligent in the up and coming months. I could use this time to rant and rave about the weird effects the magnesium sulfate they pumped into me for two days at the hospital had on my body. How I swelled like a blow fish and couldn’t really see for a good day and a half. I could dedicate this post to the tortures of post-pardum pooping- which, in my humble opinion, is a fate worse than labor. Make note in case you are considering childbearing in the near future: there are just some things people are afraid to tell you, but trust me. Do yourself a favor and take those little, red pills they offer you at the hospital. It’ll save you hours of crying in the bathroom. I could go on and on about how I have up-graded my walk from Danny DeVito status to a slight John Wayne swagger thanks to all those fabulous internal stitches they gave me because my daughter thought she was superman on the way out and just couldn’t put her hand down. But, I don’t feel like being witty or pessimistic today. I am only slightly sorry to say that, I may, in fact, never feel like it again. The reason is, I have a little human being that looks strikingly like me who makes funny faces which are more wildly entertaining than any banter I could put down on paper. I, in fact, need not dwell on the darker side of things and make intelligent jokes out of them in order to connect to the general public opinion that “misery loves company”. I have strong reason to believe that if said public ever met my daughter, misery wouldn’t stand a chance. When I look at her, I know that no matter how tired, sick, sad I may be at the time, it was all worth just the knowing of her. But I don’t get to just know her. I get to have as a permanent part of our family. Now, our family of three. ( We had a turtle named Sheldon once, but he died- or, according to Tom my brother-in-law, I killed him. Semantics, really. Regardless, reptilian pets hardly count as family members.)
That’s where I’ve been the last few weeks. So, get prepared, people. The Shannon Family Table just got a little bigger. Which means there’ll be more stories, more strange anecdotes, more talk about poop- something she loves to do, all over her clothes apparently-and a lot more love. If you can handle it, visit often. There’s always an extra seat for you and Ellie loves meeting new people.