I have an 80-something-year-old neighbour. She lives across the street. I’m pretty sure she’s seen me walk around my house naked. I tend to do that…. Too lazy to shut blinds. I’ve had a baby, for heaven’s sake, I’d walk down the STREET naked (or, at least in my nightie…). Besides, this isn’t even my bawd right now. It’s a GINORMOUS version of my bawd.

A-ny-way….

So, yeah, old lady neighbour…. Let’s call just call her K. Now, I don’t want to sound like a horrible person. Because really I’m not. I’m actually very nice. But, I just CANNOT STAND the fact that I’m getting phone calls from K every single day since I turned 35 weeks preggers.

The first phone call occurred earlier this month, actually. It was a couple weeks after the monkey’s birthday, and K called to wish her happy birthday, berating herself for forgetting the day. How does she know the monkey’s birthday, even? Friends, I BARELY KNOW THIS WOMAN! How did she get my phone number? “From the book,” she explained after I asked her. That would be the phone book.

Blah blah blah. So, the other day, at 9:30pm, K called me to ask me a question about a mysterious – are you ready for the excitement? – blue recycling box on her lawn. And, yes, we had a full conversation about this blue recycling box. I finally got out of it (when she attempted to offer me other neighbours’ phone numbers so I could inquire about said recycling box…ahem) by saying I needed to rest. Good ol’ reliable pregnancy excuse.

The next day, she calls at 11:30am, and leaves this on my answering machine: “you know, Haley, if you should fall ill or are too tired from your pregnancy, you know you can leave Monkey with me.” She clearly does NOT know what she’s offering.

And, it goes on. She calls again today. “I’m sorry K,” I say, “we’re just napping.” “Oh,” she says, “I meant what I said on your machine yesterday about taking care of Monkey for you. I saw you walking with your family today and you looked so tired…. My husband thinks I’m crazy for offering to babysit the monkey — ’she doesn’t even know you, K!’ he said….” Blah blah. Crazy? Nahhh….

For the record, I think K’s sweet and adorable. But, honestly? At 35 weeks pregnant, I’m not looking for new friends. And, I’m certainly NEVER leaving my monkey with my 80-something-year-old neighbour — for BOTH their sakes.

Anyway. I had to share this. Because it’s so weird — why start calling me NOW!

…ALTHOUGH…if she offered me birthday cake or a glass of milk, I’d DASH RIGHT OVER THERE!

Got milk? I WANT IT. NOW!

Oh, dang. I just tried to take a pic of me with the “Got Milk” mustache…. And, apparently, it doesn’t work with nonfat milk. Oh well…. I love milk right now. Indeed, I may be IN love with it right now…. CRAAAVE.

LOOK AT MY HAND!

SO SWOLLEN! These are NOT my hands. I usually have teeny hands and teeny wrists. I can hardly bend my elbows, they’re so swollen. My feet are, like, worse. But, YOU COULDN’T PAY ME to post a picture of my uggers feet!

Instead of napping today, the monkey and I painted outside…. Yes, check my cheaty little ARTISTE! The balance, the colour, the lines…. AHH, MAIS OUI, QUEL PERFECTION!

This was the messiest activity EVAH. I’m so happy we opted to do it outside….

A big bee feasted on a half-eaten grape between my feet today. I wanted to pet it.

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