Dear Lord, Please Kill Facebook

I’m so over Facebook. It’s so clearly a space for self-promotion and exposing yourself to being marketed to by the businesses you “like” that it’s lost any and all appeal. (Well, really, it lost all appeal to me a long time ago when my dad joined.) So I just don’t post on there very frequently, and when I do, I try to keep it general – I’m not there to share much in the way of my personal life. Especially my personal life involving My Better Half, as he chooses not to have a presence on Facebook and the like, so I do my best to keep him out of it. So when I got pregnant last fall, since I didn’t use Facebook much anyway, I thought it would be weird to say “Hey! I’m having a baby!” and never really figured out any appropriate way to share the news there “publicly” with my “friends.” Nevertheless, once my girl was born, it was natural to post photos of her so that everyone can see what a cute-ass baby we had made. I kept getting responses like “OMG! I didn’t know you were pregnant!” I’m not sure exactly how/when I should have made that announcement, given my “meh” feelings about Facebook.

Officially Uninhabitable

We’ve just discovered that our daughter is allergic to dairy, and since I’m breastfeeding, that means I have to cut out dairy. So I’m going through the 7 stages of grief in letting it go. But I just can’t get to Acceptance. Phoenix is officially intolerable in the summer without ice cream. Yeah, yeah, I know. There’s sorbet. Hrmph to you.