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?
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?
I’m declaring today the official Rex Manning Day. I can do that. I have that authority.
Now we just have to get the President to declare it a Federal holiday. Please sign the petition by commenting below.
For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about (::head shaking at you, not with you::)…educate yourselves! Watch Empire Records…since my blog is named after that movie. But if you don’t have that kind of time, at the very least, watch the Rex Manning video.
Please celebrate by saying or doing one or more of the following:
- The fat man walks alone.
- Glue quarters to the floor.
- The time to hesitate is through.
- Carry around a couch cushion.
- Leave a red bra on the table of a restaurant.
- What’s with today today?
Happy Rex Manning Day!
Dear Pod People,
Please return my baby. My perfect little baby who…
- Takes 3-4 45-minute naps a day every 2 or 2.5 hours.
- Sleeps through the night for 10 hours.
- Puts herself back to sleep when she wakes up.
- Sleeps in her crib.
I do not appreciate the pod baby you have left in her place. You see, the pod baby is teething.
Don’t be fooled by the cuteness. This IS a future pod person.
The pod baby you see above is not as easy going as my baby. This pod baby nurses to sleep, wakes up an hour later, must fall back asleep on me, and then wakes up every time she goes back into the crib, so I finally give up and bring the pod baby into Mommy and Daddy’s bed where the pod baby decides every few hours that she must sleep on me, not next to me.
And, of course, I get no sleep because I’m convinced I will either roll on said pod baby or roll over while the baby is on top, which will send the baby onto the floor.
I was willing to take care of the pod baby until my husband and I had this conversation:
Thoughtsy: When does the teething stop?
Kiefer: I think they have all their teeth around 2 years.
So there you have it. Just when I thought sleep was once again mine for the taking, I find out there’s another year and a half of no sleep.
See what you have to ask yourself is what kind of person are you? Are you the kind that sees signs, that sees miracles? Or do you believe that people just get lucky? Is it possible that there are no coincidences?—Signs
I believe in signs.
I believe there’s a reason I always said, “There’s no way I’m going back to Kiefer…unless he proposes…with a ring…and has tickets to Vegas.” And then…that happened.
I believe there’s a reason Kiefer and I saw this sign in Washington, DC, on a date after he proposed.
Most signs aren’t this clear.
I believe there’s a reason that a week after I said “Yes,” we finally found a new house.
I believe there’s a reason that a couple months after Kiefer’s proposal we got pregnant…and got this cutie pie:
I like putting her in hats that are too big for her. It makes her head look smaller, which makes my nether regions feel better.
Everyone with me now: I believe I can fly…I believe I can touch the sky….
Sorry. My writing made me channel R. Kelly. If you don’t know the song, don’t tell me. It’ll make me feel old.
Do you see signs?
Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Those toilets are real time savers though. If you go in with some shampoo, you can squeeze in a quick shower.”—correctionsandclarifications