Cutting Teeth

The baby update of the day (or of the last few weeks, I should say) is that Molly has started teething at a freakishly young age.  Given that most women sensibly stop breast feeding their children when they get teeth*, my days of drinking for two, or for one and a half, are drawing to a close.  I was going to wrap things up on the anniversary of the conception, anyway.

Besides, since Sara has started a blog of her own to track her adventures as a new mother of twins, I have started to guiltily feel that I'm stealing her material when I write about her life/offspring.

Which leaves me only with my own life to entertain you with.  Which is a sad state of affairs indeed, since I seem to be suffering both from writer's block and from a 1/3 of life crisis.  Impending birthday aside, surely I am too young to be suffering from a mid-life crisis.  Though definitely too old for the quarter-life crisis**.  Though since it's unlikely I'll live into my 90's***, maybe 1/3 of life crisis isn't right either****.

Whatever it is, it is likely to be a painful process from which I will (hopefully) emerge as a more complete and capable person.  First time for everything. Like getting teeth and gaining the ability to bite and chew. In case anyone didn't get the connection that was obvious to me in my head.


*Sara isn't breastfeeding directly from the breast, as we all know, but the principle is the same.  In my opinion.

**I survived the quarterlife crisis, with a lot of style, from ages 24 through 27.  And when I say style, I might mean cliche.  Though, I wouldn't be fair to myself to call my mid-20's a cliche, since I started using quarterlife crisis to describe myself long before it became a pop culture phenomenon.  I defined it as an Indian Summer of adolescence in combination with early onset mid-life crisis and for a long time honestly thought I'd made up the term myself.  I guess the same definition could apply to 1/3 of life crisis.

***Very unlikely, considering certain lifestyle choices.  Really must stop modelling my life after Hunter S. Thompson (minus narcotics and firearms).  Perhaps Charles Bukowski is more apt.  Not that I'm modelling my life after anyone on purpose.  And not that I'll ever produce a Ham on Rye.  Lack of talent and lack of initiative.  What a dismal combination.

****Though as far as that goes, quarterlife crisis isn't an accurate way to describe any experience around age 25, unless living to 100 is status quo, which it isn't.