When LB was three weeks old, I decided she would be a “go baby.” I’m not one to be happy at home for very long and the thought of staying in the house with this new person who cried and pooped and ate all the time made me roll my eyes constantly and weep in to piles of tissue. I needed out and she was going to go with me.
We purchased a garbage can today. [I’m sorry, did you just roll your eyes and mutter, “that is not blog worthy”? You are *obviously* not aware what this garbage can means to me. Or what it took to get it. Or why we went two and a half months without one at all.]
It’s all because of the mister. [And love squabbles are always blog worthy. :: eye roll :: ]*
Since the toddler turned two, life has been… Interesting? No… um.. Wild? Yes, but.. Hell? YES! Hell.
She is coming in to her own. She MUST be the one to put on her shoes. She WILL be the one to not drink out of her straw, but rather open the lid and dump the precious expensive gold that is “Organic Valley Milk” on to her lap/carseat/books. She will refuse to walk when you ask her to, she’ll slump, boneless, when prompted to get in to the car and she’ll scream for hours in her crib instead of relaxing like Mommy could do if she would only SHUT UP for an hour or two. I’m just sayin’.