Compensation.

I whine a lot. I have come to this conclusion.

Good things (in no particular order):

The Snugglebug has four teeth, and is quite capable of feeding herself. Give her a piece of toast, and she'll happily sit there for 15 minutes ripping it apart like a savage and gumming it to death. It is adorable.

She also can almost walk. She has this Fisher Price shopping cart (that she loves to throw everything out of, but that's a different story) and she can walk along with it. But only in a straight line. So she goes forward until she runs into something, and then she stands there, banging the cart into the wall/door/piece of furniture over and over, trying to figure out why she's not moving anymore, until I get there and turn her around. Then she does it again. And again. And again. I'm starting to worry that there will be dents in the front door and the wall opposite it.

When she crawls, her little butt wiggles back and forth. I bought her pants with ruffles on the rear. My mother finds this hilarious.

The Manfriend let me fall asleep in his bed on Saturday night. I picked him up from work, and then we went back to his house, and then we started watching Lucky Number Slevin, and then I fell asleep. He woke me up when I had to go home.

He's so good to me.

My sister's mother-in-law spent a large chunk of Saturday afternoon giving me parenting advice. This is because she does not approve of the way my sister is raising her grandchildren, and she doesn't want me to ruin the Snugglebug in a similar manner. I refrained from pointing out to her that I am nowhere near as crazy as my sister is, mostly from some lingering sense of familial loyalty. I felt very virtuous about this act.

I have job. I will have health insurance in less than a month. I intend to get new glasses, contacts, my teeth cleaned, and some form of superbirthcontrol that will neverever fail.

I am especially excited about the teeth cleaning. I'm sort of a freak.