Scout looks absolutely nothing like me. She might have my hair, but Kiefer’s hair is darkish, too, so it’s hard to tell.
If I hadn’t been in labor with her for nearly 30 hours, I might question that she was actually my child.
But the other day, this happened:
And it reminded me of this:
Look familiar? Are you looking at my butt? Because that’s not what I meant. Scout’s wearing a diaper, so you can’t really compare our butts.
We both love giant beanbags!
You’re still looking at my butt, aren’t you?
At the grocery store, I saw an older gentleman loading his items onto the belt for the cashier. Why exactly did this catch my eye?
Because he unloaded about six boxes of Pop-Tarts from his cart.
Not one box. Not two boxes. Six boxes. At least. There may have been more. I didn’t want to
drool stare too long.
That will be me in 30 years. I hope.
Kiefer should count himself lucky that he found me before that elderly gentleman.
Speaking of Pop-Tarts…Scout’s birthday came and went. This is how we kicked it off: Birthday Cake Pop-Tarts.
Of course, we did cupcakes and frozen yogurt that weekend, too. More pics to come!
I stay home with Scout. I get up at 4 AM, so I can work before she wakes up. During her naps, I do more work. At 4 PM, Scout goes to the child care center in our gym, and I hop on an elliptical and watch Ellen.
For those of you mathematically challenged, that’s 12 hours until I get a break.
Today I was especially excited to watch Ellen because Johnny Depp was a guest (::swoon::).
After mere minutes, a special news report interrupted my program. (Does saying “my program” make me sound old?)
My first thought? NOOOOOOOO! JOHNNY!
My second thought? Damn terrorists.
But it wasn’t terrorists. It was Tom Brady. Damn Tom Brady…talking about how he picks out his footballs. Insert your own joke about a man and his balls here and in the comments.
And although Tom Brady is pretty cute, let’s face it: he’s no Johnny Depp.
I saw this:
Instead of this:
Now I know why people hate the Patriots. Those freakin’ program interrupters….
I’ve always worn my hair long…except for two times in my entire life.
The first time I was about 4. My friend cut her hair short, so I had to do it, too. Then…I cried.
The second time my hair ended up short unintentionally. I wanted curly hair in 5th grade. And that meant a perm…except my hair ended up crimpy, stinky, and not even shoulder length. I cried…again.
Removed so I don’t die of embarrassment.
So when I decided to donate my hair, I had to wait until it was long enough that I wouldn’t end up in tears after cutting off 8 inches.
I heard that Pantene donates a higher percentage of hair, so I donated my hair to them instead of Locks of Love.
Just in time, too, because my hair is turning gray fast.
Checked off another item on the 35 Before 35 list!
I can’t remember exactly how it started, but I think when Scout was a couple months old, we started blowing raspberries to her while she was having her diaper changed. It distracted her and kept her from fussing.
Then one day she blew one back at me. So I blew one at her again. And she blew one back at me. And this went on for 5 minutes or so.
Thoughtsy: It’s like she’s trying to communicate!
It was funny.
Until one day, it wasn’t.
Complete Stranger in Line Behind Us at Target: Awwww…your baby is so cute!
Awesome. Just awesome. What a rude little baby. At least she’s cute.