The thing is, somewhere between birth and age 22, I lost my imagination. Poof. Gone. I don't dance unless very inebriated, I don't make silly faces, I don't woop at sporting events. I sit quietly and mind my business. I don't DIY stuff around my house. I don't sing along to the radio when others are in the car. I don't sing aloud in public at all (again, unless inebriated). I don't scream or make loud noises. 1000% boring. And now I have a kiddo who will need to be entertained in ways that don't involve my inebriation. Have you read kinderpendent? Or stopped by SouleMama? I'm effed! No way will my sad little brain ever conjure up the creative schemes it should to make sure baby H develops into the genius he should. Just today I had to read a post on babycenter to learn how to play with a newborn. (and it's taken me six weeks to do this...). A typical day means me trying to keep him alive, let alone happy and stimulated. Mama fail.