I've got a cold.

Before I had a baby I used to read my friend's blogs and get so frustrated because they only wrote about their kids. I was always like What about you? What are YOU doing? Well, know I know what they were doing.

Nothing.

Scratch that - they were doing a TON, just nothing interesting. (Unless you happen to be 4 months old in which case they are doing something extremely interesting, especially around nap time.) I keep trying to come up with things to write about but my brain is full to brimming with things like nap schedules and incredibly bad song lyrics. (To whit, "Nothing Says I Love You Like A Poop On Your Lap", sung to the tune of the Battle Hymn of the Republic.) Or take this top hit, sung to "Lullabye":

"Baby B is full of beans
Full of beans in a tree
Baby B is full of beans
Full of beans in a tree

Baby B
Full of beans
Full of beans in a tree

Baby B
Full of beans
Full of beans in a tree"

Hey, it's not any worse than "I've Got My Mind Set On You" and that thing won a freakin' Grammy.

I was once cool. Okay, I was never cool but I was at least interesting. Or if not interesting, I was chatty which often counts as interesting if you use enough hand gestures. I know that there are some mommies out there who seem to do it all (some of those mommies also have more than one kid, which stuns the hell out of me) but me? If I get the cat litter scooped it's a productive day. I used to be working on a novel but naps often only last around 20 minutes: roughly enough time to write a paragraph. (But not a clever one.) I aspire to a once-a-day blog so I've been doing much magical thinking about Will and 2 hour naps (Psychology Today has a fantastic article about magical thinking. Made me laugh and think, two things I rarely do while sitting on the pot) but I think I have to face up to the fact that I might be more of a once-a-weeker. Frustrating, considering that this is now my only creative outlet. I'm no longer auditioning, mostly due to the fact that I have no idea what to do with the kid. I used to see women dragging their strollers to auditions, playing Peek-A-Boo with one hand while holding a script in the other. They'd always look so frazzled which makes total sense, seeing as how they'd just had to navigate the subway, an overcrowded waiting room, wary casting directors, encroaching nap times, fussy infants - not to mention their own nerves - all before going in. (At which time they'd search the room for someone willing to give up their own prep time to watch a stranger's baby.) Maybe if I was a "booker" it'd be worth it, but for me auditions were always a crap shoot at best. That said, there's a ton of people who manage it so maybe it's easier than I think.

Please. It's got to suck.

So yeah, not much to report. About me, that is. Will, on the other hand, has a bunch going on: exploring the possibility that my boobs might be fun to bite (the screams should imply that they're not), weaning himself (I keep sticking 'em in, he keeps spitting 'em out), the joys of eating his toes, rolling over both ways, lighting up whenever I walk into the room (makes daddy so jealous!) but refusing to say "uh-MA" anymore, growing some mighty fine apricot colored hair, freaking the F- out over "Goodnight Moon" (what is it about that book?), doing his best to sit unassisted, smiling at strangers (unless they look shifty), refusing to put on weight (still tiny, even with formula), and generally being a joy to be around except at nap time.

That said, the sleep? SO MUCH BETTER. Last night he slept for 11.5 hours. Lest I sound too smug, I fully realize that this will change as soon as he hits his next developmental stage (hell, it may change tonight) but for now I choose to embrace and enjoy. I've also started reading this amazing blog written by a mother of two. All she does is answer reader questions about child rearing but her advice is so funny and dead on. Seriously, she's my new guru. I've also developed a significant, albeit late to the game, obsession with "The Office" (both versions) and am hoping to discover a way to reconfigure my figure before shorts are in season. (Rule #1: When you're not breastfeeding, you can't continue to eat like you are. Dammit.)