Susan, that is the key, right there. It seems to me that if there is anything, anything at all you can work yourself up into a tizzy of guilt over, you will. You are driving yourself bonkers, and you need to stop it. Stop. worrying.

Well, I hardly know anyone my age who still rents, and no one trying to raise a baby in this little space. So it makes me feel irresponsible, like we must've fucked up our finances royally.

Well, I hardly know anyone my age who still rents, and no one trying to raise a baby in this little space. So it makes me feel irresponsible, like we must've fucked up our finances royally.

I still rent. I've raised Emmett in a two-bedroom apartment. He's fine. Kids don't need big houses to thrive.

I hardly know anyone my age who still rents

44 years old and have contributed handsomely to my landlord's European vacation habit. I'm not falling for the "we'll give a mortgage to anyone!" scam, because I know what the words "balloon payment" mean.

Part of the problem is I'm comparing her to my mother's description of my behavior as a baby

My mother has been going on about what I was like as a baby and saying that Owen is a lot like me, etc. Honestly, I think she's nuts. She had five kids and the last two were twins. And she had cancer when we were three and went back to work when we were six. So I think she may not be remembering all that well.

I have a hard enough time not comparing Owen to the babies we meet in Romper Room and in playgroup settings without worrying about comparing him to me as an infant, too.

Even still, Emmett wanted human contact more than to play with toys. So if you can get Annabel to contentedly play with her stuff in there, then I think you're okay. If she's trying to get your attention by testing, then maybe you need to do some resumes after her bedtime.

I could be wrong, but I don't think her attempts to ransack the bookshelves or reach things that the day before I'd have sworn were out of her range are meant to get my attention, because she acts so angry when I come to take her away. I think she's just trying to explore her world and investigate her new physical skills. She's a very self-contained child. I'm not sure she'll be an introvert, because she's friendly and flirty, but she's very mellow and independent.

I have a hard enough time not comparing Owen to the babies we meet in Romper Room and in playgroup settings without worrying about comparing him to me as an infant, too.

We spend so little time around babies who are exactly her age that there's really no one to compare her to.

That's just it, Susan. Don't compare her. It's only adding to your aggravation. She's herself. Her mellow and happy self. Whether she walks at 10 months or whether she walks at 14 months is nothing to get worked up over.

Harumph. Went to do another henna test, but in the process of boiling the coffee, I boiled it all away.

It's all my fault. I drank all the coffee today.

Susan, cut yourself a break, girl. I'm not a parent, so I can't offer any really helpful thoughts, but I've done a lot of babysitting and watching of others raise their babies. You're doing just fine.

I mention this because I secretly believe it somehow makes me cooler and sexier by Jen association

It totally does. Cause she's sexy like that.

a woman tries to help her nine-year-old son deal with being called fag

Goddamn fucking PEOPLE. Jesus.

I may yet develop a taste for it, but it takes extraordinary garnishment to get me to eat asparagus

I will eat all your asparagus, if you eat all my mushrooms.

Now, they are not the most enlightened (can you say "racist") and I figured they would ignore my black BF.

Well, I'm glad to hear that they were better than that! Yay! And ah, the fun of family members.

Now y'all are making me want veggies. Or pot-pie. Mmm, pot pie.

Ah, fuck. Apparently I burnt enough peach cobbler onto the bottom of my oven as to render it completely unusable until I find time to clean it. Also, I have determined beyond a shadow of a doubt that the smoke alarm in the kitchen is dead dead dead.