No caption. She says so much already…
Let me tell you about my favorite sound in the whole wide world. It goes like this, “MooooooooooOOOOOOOoooommmmmmm!” and it is hysterical.
It’s the sound my daughter makes whenever I am humiliating her beyond words. She can’t do anything to complain besides just kind of MOO my name at me. It’s freaking great.
Today had such potential to be a good day. The sun is shining, it is above 50 degrees out there and I was ready to make a good day of it.
Gabe, however, had other plans…
It started out brilliantly. I woke up, had coffee and Gabe was being a real doll–not fussing, playing happily and just, in general, being a good baby. It felt like the perfect opportunity to go run some errands, and by running errands, I mean “go to Walmart,” as usual. Now, I’m not a ‘Mart fanatic. I’m a mother. I have limited time and resources. If I can make one trip, I better make it count. So, out of sanity-saving necessity, I go to the Mart. I hate the Mart, I do. But, shit, girllll, they got e’rthang!
I killed it. I loved it and I killed it.
Exhibit A.
I don’t even know what happened so I’m going to re-trace my steps in an attempt to figure out how it all went wrong for poor Basil here.
It was a beautiful sunny day. I became convinced spring was upon us so I swaddled up the baby and went out on an adventure… to Wal-mart. This is a reoccurring trope in my life. It seems that all things that happen to me begin, end or somehow involve a trip to Wal-mart. This is a scary realization.
My life in a nutshell:
I have been sitting on the couch for a half hour now with my left boob hanging out of my shirt. Why? Because if I put it away, the baby will wake up and scream at me. He’s a tyrant.
So my new kid has cradle cap. You know, that yellowish, crusty stuff some unfortunate babies get and that WebMD says is completely normal? Well, if you’ve never seen it, it’s gross. It embarrasses me. I feel like I should mumble apologies to people who tell me he’s cute. “Yeah, if you can look past the horrible, flaky scales on his forehead, I GUESS…” Continue reading
F-Bomb Mommy 