I've seen other people do it and like the results, so this evening I made my husband gut a pumpkin and then I made my kid sit in it while I documented the experience. Little E had a screaming day, so I figure he owes me.
These are the stages of pumpkin entrapment from grief to acceptance.
Stage One: This is BULLSHIT!!! You cannot do this to me! I have rights!!
Stage Two: Wait. Wait just a minute. I think I may be able to EAT this S.O.B.
Stage Three: Chomp, chomp, chomp.
Stage Four: I am sated. Remove me from this autumnal fruit.
In the true style of my youngest child, he took what could have been a real crap day and ate it.
I realize by creating this entry, I may lose one or two of you, which at this point is roughly a 90% loss of readership. It's a risk I have to take ya'll.
We are Dallas Cowboys FANS. That's right. All caps, all business.
Feast your eyes on my tiny team players. Note that PD always wears Cowboys blue, none of this pink bullshit I see rolling around the mall. Also note her giant bow.
Little E's outfit was created by a great friend of mine whose handiwork you can see over at http://punkyprissdesigns.com/
The outfit is sort of my favorite thing ever. I'm in awe of anyone with any sort of talent.
Anywho, I'll be a pumpin and a dumpin this evening as the Cowboys slaughter the Skins.
I've spent a lot of time reflecting on life and motherhood in these past few weeks and I have a few thoughts I figured I'd share. At least one of them will probably change your life. Maybe not.
1. Trying to invent a device that electrocutes your husband’s penis when your child cries and he sleeps through it, is an OK way to spend the time you’re up in the middle of the night feeding the baby. Normal thing to think about, really.
2.I don’t care if your kid sleeps in a drop-side crib in East Detroit and the only sling you own is from when you broke your arm freestyle walking. If you have ever taken a dump with a 42lb toddler on your lap or while nursing an infant, you are practicing Attachment Parenting. You’re disgusting, but totally AP.
3.If you have more than one kid, the older one(s) really has you by the nuts when you’re nursing the other one. I find this to be especially true during the first feed of the morning when you are exhausted and half naked. You’re basically helpless and that means your oldster can do things like:
Shove a jar of caterpillars in your face while jumping on the bed (this is as upsetting as it sounds and, PS, what kind of an effing idiot buys their kid a butterfly hatching kit??? This guy, that's who.)
Run into the backyard completely nude under the guise of letting out the dogs
Wipe cheeto dust (probably the organic sort of breakfast cheetos you just haven’t heard of yet, back up off me) on your pumping bra while trying it on and insisting that she too has milk in her boobs
The point of all this is, absolutely nothing. But, this is sort of where I dump my extra thoughts. Sooner or later I am bound to say something really profound, so sit tight for that.
On this, the fifth week anniversary of Little E's birth, he had his first bath. It's tradition in our family to wait until the child is 35 days old to bathe them. Or it's because his cord stump didn't fall off until he was 30 days old and I've been busy since then, take your pick.
He started off very chill and zen about the whole thing.
PD wanted in on the action and stepped in for the assist, much to E's chagrin.
"I will not stand for this, do you hear me??"
And then it was over, and all was set right.
How is it possible for someone to be this freaking cute??? I cannot stand the sight of him he is so cute!! I'll try to pull myself together, but come on!
Look at this kid. Once he gets rid of that cradle cap and regrows his leetle hairsies, he's gonna take over the world.
It’s a cliché as old as motherhood. If it’s too quiet, something rotten is happening with your kids. But, as all moms know, sometimes it is tempting to use that brief window of time to throw in a load of laundry, wash some bottles, pay a few bills, or maybe just pop some more of your root canal medicine and text message your best friend while squeezing in a quick round of Word Feud.
In any event, ignoring the silence means you’ll live to regret it.
I know I was filled with regret when PD came into my room and shoved a finger full of feces in my face (say that three times fast). Luckily, she had the foresight to wrap a flushable toddler wipe around the damage. So proud of my little shit smelling genius.
She’s still learning the finer points of wiping. That coupled with her proclivity for secret ninja dumps means we have had a few incidents.
Fortunately the carpet in her room is indoor/outdoor.
Well, here I am anyway. I haven't decided yet whether I will share this with anyone or just keep er' to myself.
I already have a blog, sort of. It's really just pictures of my oldest kid and I haven't updated it in about 11 months. Hold judgment. I was pregnant for 9 of those months, during which, I quit my job, we rented out our house and moved 250 miles south, and we've been living with my parents since the end of April. Did I mention it was a complicated, "high-risk" pregnancy? So, nothing new to report, see?
In any event, I just had a baby, Little E. He and his sister (I think she calls herself Potato Dog these days) are awesome and do many entertaining and often awe-inspiring things and I felt it should all be documented. I keep losing the journals that I buy for said documentation and when I find them, they are covered in crayon and other substances.
The main thing is that I want to remember all the hilarious and endearing things that Potato Dog (PD for short) and Little E do.
Just this morning, as I was changing the baby, PD was rifling through the diaper bag. I turned to get a finger full of diaper cream and faster than you could say, "SONOFABITCH that was fast!!", PD had the Mylicon dropper in Little E's mouth, dispensing the gas relief that she felt he needed.
I think I'll want to remember that sort of thing. If for no other reason than to remember to lock up the meds.