Last Comic Standing: Toddler Edition

Scene: Bree and Mama are playing on the floor after a long day full of traveling.

Bree: Conks backwards, and throws her hands out to the side.

Mama: "What are you doing, Aubrey?"

Bree: "Nap."

Mama: "Napping?"

Bree: "Yesssh."

Mama: "Wanna go to bed?"

Bree: Crawls across the living room to the baby gate, without lifting her head off the ground.

Mama: "What are you doing Aubrey? What do you do now?"

Bree: "Climb."

Mama: Almost pees pants. Pretty sure she's the funniest child I know!

Drama.

Ever notice that the amount of times a person says "I hate drama" is proportional to the amount of drama they actually create in their life?

What's up with that, yo?

I know correlation does not equation causation, but....

Think that over. Ponder it. Bet it applies to the same people in your life as well.

Ohhh Baby, baby!

We're having another one!

So, it seems that I will not be losing 30 pounds or running a race with Bree in August as I previously shared.

Nope, we'll be having a baby then!

Super excited. Bree is going to be a kick ass big sister, I just know it.

Y'know what really grinds my gears?

I hate when parents call their children "Mini Me." It's one of those things that drives me bananas!

Does my child look like me? Share the same mannerisms? Like the same things? Try to do what I do?

Yes.

Well, I assume she will. Right now she's one. She likes to eat, nap, play and scare the heck outta me with her lack of fear.

I have friends who call the kids the minis. I'm ok with that, but I take issue with mini me.

It takes away from the fact that my child is an individual. Yessir, she may look and act like me and want to be like me, but she's still her own person.

She will have her own passions, likes, dislikes, dreams, desires, quirks. She's an amazing person in her own right.

Why would I want to diminish that by implying she's "just like me!" Are we really that desperate for approval in our own lives that we need the validation to come from our own children?

I want her to know I'm proud of her, of course. And I want her to know that I like myself, because I think that's super important. But I don't want her to think for a moment that validation needs to come from others, or that's she's responsible for the happiness of others.

I want her to be her own unique, quirky self.

Whoever that turns out to be.

Hello, Handsome! Or, How My Husband Spent The Day Buying A Whole New Wardrobe.

You can call off the search parties, folks. That grumbling and moaning you heard was just my amazing husband being forced to spend the whole day performingslave labor shopping. Gasp! The horror!

We all made it out alive! Much, much poorer, but still breathing.

My husband got a huge promotion, that requires he have nice adult clothing, which means he needed a whole new wardrobe!


Why are suit salesman so careless in their words*? I don't think they mean it, maybe it's because they work in retail, but two of them said such thoughtless things I may have ended up with an indent in my scalp from all the head scratching I did.

We're trying to spend close to a grand on four pieces of fabric and some silk to choke him. Be nice!

1. "Come see me when you make some money."

Word? Come see me when you're not a presumptuous jerk in a too tight suit.

2. "If what you're telling me is true..."

Yes, we are the parents of the youngest graduating nuclear physicist in the history of Harvard. I have just become the 45th Woman Nobel Laureate in all of the prizes history as well. As a celebration, our family will be taking a private space flight aboard Virgin Galactica, and we want look good when meeting the reptilians and/or grays. My grandma is getting married onboard! Yup, he's a great guy, just turned 18, has three babies and just two baby mamas, still has most of his teeth, and a good job at the calculator factory.

Clearly I have a damn good imagination and could come up with a better story than, "My husband got promoted to management and needs a suit." Please don't question my integrity over something so silly.

Oy.

Or like my blog...