|every mom to young kids needs this shirt|
Gracie has been napping for over an hour.
THIS IS A BIG DEAL.
She has not napped at all this week. Like, at all. At all.
Which means I'm going to update you on all things exciting and thrilling. Because I have the time!
My mom and I kind of have a standing date every week. We get lunch, hang out with the baby, drink coffee, and talk. Sometimes we go do fun things, sometimes we sit on the couch and discuss the day's hard-hitting issues like reality tv and what we ate for breakfast and who we unfriended on Facebook that week. I love my mom. But really, most of our time is spent loving on the baby and telling her she's the prettiest, smartest, cutest, most wonderful thing alive.
We are obnoxious.
We got Mexican food for lunch yesterday, and since I'm off the dairy, I had no choice but to eat a bucket of chips and salsa and order fajitas. FAJITAS. The word itself sounds like a party. I ate roughly 3 plates of food while No Naps McGee took a jaunty 20 minute snooze, the only nap I could squeeze out of her all day. She was unknowingly the center of attention as strangers gushed over The Hair, and I smirked the smirk of a mother who threw up for 6 months in order to make The Hair a reality.
The bucket of chips and salsa and heaping plate of fajitas kept me full for approximately an hour. Here's the thing I didn't know about breastfeeding: it makes you hungry. Starving. Ravenous. And here's the other thing: Gracie went through a 4 day stint of nursing every 45 minutes to an hour during the day. It was the growth spurt from down under. My already ravenous appetite skyrocketed, and I ate through the entire kitchen. I shoveled down food as fast as I could and still managed to lose enough weight to keep me pulling my jeans up all day yesterday. But the fajitas probably fixed that problem.
I didn't dare leave the house with her during the 'spurt, as she was constantly wanting to eat, but she suddenly started stretching out her feedings back to every two hours on Tuesday evening. It was a luxury unlike any I have ever known. WHAT IS THIS FREEDOM? Since that left me feeling loosey goosey and high on liberation, my mom and I put the baby back in the carseat and schlepped her to Target. A lot of women go to Target for the cheap clothes and the home decor. We go for the La Croix.
(pausing real quick because you-know-who is squawking in the crib)
Do you know about La Croix? Flavored sparkling water. Every flavor you can imagine. La Croix is the fajitas of the sparkling water world--sizzly, fizzly, zazzy, and delicious. Target has all the flavors you never knew you wanted, and both our stockpiles were running dangerously low. We grabbed our favorite flavors while Miss No Naps fought with the strength of a thousand armies to keep her eyes open and also to reprimand me the second the cart stopped moving. When we went to check out, the conveyor belt had a wall of La Croix boxes stacked on it. The cashier said she'd been wanting to try it and asked us what are favorite flavor is. "Strawberry Pineapple!" I said. "Wait no, Passionfruit! Maybe Cran-Raspberry? Wait mom, don't you like the Apple Berry one? Grapefruit is good too!"
As you can see, we were very helpful.
(pausing to fish some cookie crumbs out of my bra...a common problem these days)
We came home to the stench of all stenches. It smells like something is rotting. Dying. Molding. Decomposing. But mainly like rotten produce; I'm just being dramatic. Anyway, I followed my nose, and my nose led me to nothing. For the past 24 hours I have sniffed everything in the vicinity of The Stench and still can't find its origin. The trash was just taken out. There is nothing going bad in the fridge. It's not the dishwasher or the garbage disposal. The floors are clean. My mind has been sufficiently boggled. At this rate, I have no idea what to do but continue to burn my lemon vanilla candle to mask the smell and find a new place to live.