I told my husband he’s never allowed to go business travel ever again. EVER. Because something always happens while he’s gone that I
am not equipped to deal with don’t want to handle.
- First, the boys clogged a toilet.
- Another trip another toilet.
- Then the basement flooded. A foot or so of water.
That’s not even the worst. Okay, technically, it was the worst because stuff was ruined, and it was expensive to fix.
The worst was…
- A flippin’ bat in our bedroom in the around 5 AM.
I wish I had reacted like this:
I reacted like this:
Please just don’t get in my hair.
I screamed “I’m don’t want to be a vampire anymore!” (a whisper scream because Scout’s room is right across the room from ours and waking the baby is never an option) and ran out of the room. I did pause to pull Scout’s bedroom door shut (read: motherly instinct to save the baby).
In my panic, I did have some coherent thoughts, such as…
- Vampires don’t like light, so turn on all the lights!
- Maybe the bat is Bill Compton, and I can reason with him.
- Isn’t a bat just a mouse with wings? Maybe Esme Kitty will catch it. (The answer is no. My lazy cat will not catch it. Black cats don’t catch other evil creatures because they’re on the same team.)
- Call Dad.
Yes, that’s right. Even women in their mid-30s need their dads sometimes.
Then the bat flew into the living room. I couldn’t wait for my dad, and I had to take matters into my own hands.
With a few Mission Impossible-esque somersaults, I made it to the front and back doors and opened them. After 5 minutes of taking cover from a bat that didn’t like ceiling fans and more whispering screaming from me, the bat finally made it outside.
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.
Before it got chilly, Scout and I played outside. Her favorite game is called Baby Tries to Eat the Grass While Mommy Yells, “Get It Outta Your Mouth.”
It’s fun. No, really.
Then we discovered the soccer ball.
My initial reaction was Scout’s baby gibberish loosely translated to “You may take our lives/soccer ball, but you can never take our freedom!”
But maybe that was too hasty. Maybe she was really saying…
- Are you blind, ref?!?! That ball was out!
- Put me in coach! I’m ready to play…today!
- What the heck, Mommy! I can’t fit this soccer ball in my mouth!
What do you think Scout is saying? Or what do you think Ozzy Pups is thinking?
Because Kiefer and I are Halloween-obsessed, the day Scout was born (maybe the day after), he declared she would be Carlos for Halloween.
No. Just no.
After buying boy things for Boo and Radley for years, I refused to not have a cute girly outfit for her first Halloween.
So we compromised. She was Carlos just long enough to take one picture, and then she was magically transformed…into Snow White.
Please excuse the picture quality. Trying to get a baby to sit still and look at the camera is hard enough, let alone fix the lighting.
As you can see, Snow White was actually shorter than the dwarves. She also likes Snickers, not poisoned apples.