I eat approximately 1.5 meals a day. Dinner and a
half whole box of Cheez-It Grooves. I know, I know… I need to eat more nutritious foods and snacks and yada yada yada. But the truth is, I simply don’t have time.
Trust me, if I was that hungry I would eat something. That’s why I keep an emergency stash of Hershey’s Kisses on top of the refrigerator.
I read some of Karli’s confessions over at September F A R M, so I feel better saying this.
Dorothy is a booger machine, and sometimes I just can’t get to a tissue. So, on occasion, I resort to wiping Dot’s snot on the bottom of her sock. I like to think of it as traction control.
Kind of like those hospital socks.
I got so mad at the cats last week that I actually found myself on the Humane Society website, debating if the guilt of surrendering my pets would be worth my sanity.
I’m leaning toward “yes.”
Our cats were our babies. They were great companions… that is, until I got pregnant.
That’s when the pooping in random corners of our house started happening. It doesn’t happen every day, or even every other day. It’s completely random. Unfortunately that’s not even the worst problem – we can’t figure out which one is “the elusive pooper.”
Our original guess was Halle, but now we have reason to believe it could be Harley. Regardless, I deal with enough poop/spit up/drool/snot with an infant
and a husband.
I’m about to lose my cool.
I firmly believe that if I can survive until 5 p.m., I deserve a glass of wine. It’s like my own personal celebration that I made it through another 24 hours.
In seriousness, 5 p.m. has actually become my favorite part of the day. I feed Dot her peas, jam to Pandora, and sippy sip on some vino.
Everybody’s happy. 🙂
My television was on for 16.5 hours straight yesterday. STRAIGHT.
Quiz me on daytime TV. I dare you.
There are many times when I know I should put the sleeping baby down and DO SOMETHING, but I can’t.
See, Dot’s eyes fly open on impact with the pack-and-play. Most days I decide that it’s easier for me just to hold her while she naps, than it is to deal with an overly-exhausted baby.
Plus they’re only snuggly and little for awhile, right? Laundry can wait.
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