I’m quite prolific over on Twitter. Sending a tweet is a quick way to connect with people, muse “out loud” and purge my head of random clutter, e-scream to the Universe that my kid’s STILL AREN’T NAPPING. Whatever.
But sometimes I sit down to my computer or pen Tweetdeck on my phone and start to type a tweet and then realize it’s lame/gross/untweetable/requires explanation and I don’t send it.
Thus, “Tweets I didn’t send.”
Postpartum hair loss is for the birds. I’m molting! Molting! #BirdJoke
Somehow, I felt that tweeting the above, while there would be those who would understand my plight, was maybe a waste of characters? An insult to birds? I don’t know. But I didn’t send it.
I lose so much hair every time I lather, rinse, and repeat that it’s a complete miracle to me that I still have hair in my head at all. So much hair is in fact that I almost took a picture of one of the hair balls and made an entire blog post about I but quickly realized that 1) that was borderline disgusting and 2) y’all would unfollow me en masse. So, you’re welcome?
(But seriously? Enough with the hair loss. So. tired. of. it.)
Both of my kids are sleeping! It’s Mommy Christmas come early!
Any time I have every publicly bragged about sleep, the Universe has blown the good sleeping up in my face. So as a rule, I’m just not tweeting about it when either of my kids sleeps well. I do, however, reserve the right to use up every avenue of social media to complain when they aren’t sleeping.
Additionally, having the two of them sleep at the same time almost never happens, so there’s nothing to tweet. The above is merely the stuff dreams are made of.
You know you’re on day four hair when you start to shampoo and there’s no lather. #DryShampooFTW
Now I’m not saying that Tweet #1 and Tweet #3 are related. But they’re probably related. My hair is in a top knot of some sort more days than not and I’m struggling to find time to shower every day. So if I do find time to shower, I’m always gambling on whether or not there’s time to wash my hair too. And a lot of the time I feel like there’s not time so I don’t wash and then when I eventually wash it’s so dirty I have to wash twice and there’s so much hair I could make a wig. Maybe a doll wig. But a wig.
Yay! Don’t you all want to hug me right now so you can be close to my maybe clean hair?
Do you have any idea how hard it is to squirt breastmilk into your baby’s eye? Freaking hard.
Fun fact: breastmilk is the great cure-all. Baby’s got a stuffy nose? Squirt some milk up there. Baby’s got a scratch? Put some milk on it. Baby’s got a clogged tear duct? Milk in the eye! Except 1) my baby is wiggly and I can’t keep her head still, and 2) my boobs do not cooperate and will neither squirt nor drip on command.
I’m not a leaker by nature and am rarely engorged and I thank my lucky stars for that regularly. Except it’d be great to be able to get the milk out when I need it. Like turning on a faucet. Just a little pinch and dripdripdrip right into the eye. Work with me, girls! I buy you nice bras!
I have more Tweets I Didn’t Send, but see Tweet #2. Both children are awake (that lasted not at all) and I should maybe not neglect them.
What tweets didn’t YOU send? Or what tweets do you wish had never been sent?