It occurs to me that I am flooding Twitter with nothing but baby-related tweets lately. The obvious reason for this is that I'm completely baby-occupied 100% of the time. The obvious downside of this is that my tweets have grown grown tedious and tiresome; a far cry from the 120-character literary masterpieces of days gone by. So instead of interrupting everyone repeatedly with news no more exciting than the contents of my baby's latest poopy diaper, I shall record my baby-related musings in a log and publish it here, no more than once daily. Deal?
Able to set The Baby down for two minutes! Now I'm wearing pants!
It's acceptable to shout "SHUT UP!" at your baby after an hour of straight howling, right? Oh. No? Okay then. I was just asking for a friend.
The cow says, "Moooooo." The Baby is eating every 45 minutes. I feel like live stock.
Yes, friendly co-shoppers, he is cute. He's also screaming, and has been doing so for the past three hours. I'm not really in the mood for your chit chat OR your sympathetic gazes.
I've caved. There is now a dreaded pacifier shoved in The Baby's mouth. Maybe now I can have some lunch.
The nightly mantra begins: "only 2-1/2 more hours... only 2-1/2 more hours... only 2-1/2 more hours..." Nose pressed to window, waiting for Daddy to come home.
Warning: objects ordered online are larger than they appear.
Baby bath? Fuck that. Nothing less that a baby spa for my little one.