Positivity

My apologies in advance, Internet. It’s about to get all Debbie Downer up in here.

“Hey, do you think Bob’s single? He’s handsome, smart, and charming. Of course, so was Ted Bundy.”

Two Days, Twelve Years

Well, Internet, if there was an antidote to last weekend, it was definitely this weekend.

Proximity to multiple wineries = antidote to pretty much anything.

Six Months

We started out here:

And now we’re here:

How can you be around someone every day and still have no idea when such a transformation occurred?

How did I ever live in a world without this face?

How am I ever going to make you understand how completely, overwhelmingly, ridiculously much I love you?

How will you ever forgive me for putting you in these pants and then taking a picture while you screamed because I thought you looked like a little old man from Boca Raton?

I hope you’ll overlook that, because I’m just crazy about you, little girl. Thank you for these past six months.

(And you’re welcome for all those cupcakes in utero. You’ll get to try a real one soon, I promise.)

OK, I Lied. Some Of It Is Hard.

Sometimes I worry that I give the impression on this blog that I think having a baby is just the easiest thing in the world, and gee, my life has pretty much been able to chug along as normal since they sent me home from the hospital with a tiny, incontinent bald woman who makes inappropriate advances towards my chest with alarming regularity.

MY EYES ARE UP HERE, Sadie.

Summer Fridays

Five years ago (five? really?!), I was working at a marketing firm downtown. I took the job in order to escape my job in retail hell, and my official title was “Administrative Assistant,” which was perfect because that is what I spent the bulk of my previous work experience doing.

I’m proficient in Word, Excel, PowerPoint, and at hiding my extreme loathing for each and every one of my miserable coworkers.

Nine Years

Nine years ago today, Brad bought the cow.

Liked it, put a ring on it.

Big Times

Whenever we’re about to do anything outside the house with Sadie, we always tell her she’s about to embark on “Big Times.” “We’re going to Target today, Sadie! Big Times!” “Daddy’s going to take you to the museum this week! Big Times!” And so forth.

For some reason, when I tried to think of an image that related to “Big Times,” the only thing that came to mind was “Big Top Pee Wee.” Yeah, I don’t know either. But I nearly pissed myself laughing at this ridiculous picture, so enjoy.

Those Are Not Where I Left Them: Marvels of the Postpartum Body

When I was 19, I got a tattoo of a dragon on my hip. Getting a tattoo was something I’d always wanted to do, and I used to doodle tattoo ideas all over my lecture notes in high school.

THANK GOD I did not go with my original tattoo idea, because it involved a heart and looked somewhat like this and would sort of give the impression that I give handy-jays at truck stops for a living.

Why-yi-yi OH WHY

Sadie loves it when you sing to her. Specifically, when you sing, dance, and generally make an ass of yourself. She gets still, focuses on your face, and will eventually nod off if she’s even remotely close to naptime or bedtime. I’ve decided she either really enjoys music, or is trying to figure out why in the world she was saddled with this spastic freakshow of a mother, and falls asleep to escape it all.

Oh Sadie, this is merely the BEGINNING of your embarrassment.

“…they are so placid and self-contain’d…”

Hello, Internet! Do you recognize the title of this post? It’s pretty random, I admit. It’s a snippet of one of my favorite poems from my favorite Santa-Claus-lookin’-rumored-to-be-geigh famous historical figure in literature. And it has come to mind lately due to some very UN-contain’d situations regarding Sadie, her new sleep schedule, and some very compromised diapers.

“Using my beautiful writing to describe your daughter’s assplosions? GEE THANKS.”

Yeah, it’s going to be one of those posts, my friends. But please read on! I need your help! With this, and with things non-feces-related!