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a boy named muffin.

April 3, 2012

First of all…I want to say THANK YOU.  I received overwhelming love and understanding from your comments, phone calls and texts.  I am so grateful to have this amazing support from people who always know how to make it better.  Thank you.  I can’t even put into words how much of a weight it lifts to know that people are in the exact same place, or have been there and were able to offer great words of encouragement.  I love you.  For real.

Now, let’s get back to the baby, shall we?  Chris and I make up the funniest and strangest nicknames for everything.  We’re super weird, and our poor cats probably don’t even know what their names actually are.  Somehow, our cat Angus went from Angus to The Goose.  No clue how it even happened, but now that’s his name.  So, why wouldn’t the baby have an awesome nickname too?

Some of you have asked what the Tiny Cheese means.  When he was born, I kept calling him Babybel.  Like the cheese.  Eventually it became The Tiny Cheese.  Now we just call him Tiny mostly, which is more of an ironic nickname than anything else.  (He’s 17 pounds and 3 months tomorrow.  Tiny he is not.)  But…other than Tiny…I have an awful habit of calling him Muffin.  I don’t know why.  He’s my little muffin man.  I know it’s going to stick.  And then when he’s old enough to know what it means, I can just hear him saying, “Mo-ooom!  Stop calling me that!”  I can’t help it, kid.  I can’t.

Here’s a little photo of the Muffin:

don't call me that.

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