One glass of wine: delightful.
Two glasses of wine: indulgent
Three glasses of wine: You should know better by now, you stupid cow.
I'm nursing a headache and was unable to eat anything more substantial than a banana until two hours ago.
I am thirty four and the mother of two. When will I learn?
Owen is spending another weekend with his grandparents, so it's been just us and Joel. In the course of the afternoon, the baby has managed to:
*Grab fistfuls of potting soil and fling it onto the floor.
*Open up the cabinet with the bleach, detergent, and ant poison. This is the one cabinet that still has a "child-proof" latch on it.
*Destroy two of Owen's books.
*Make quick work of any room he enters. A sample:
This is what I don't understand: What, exactly, has prevented me from, I don't know, stopping him? Owen wasn't there. I have no excuse except that any intervention would have involved leaving my couch nest.
I took Joel to the library yesterday and heard the following comments/questions:
*Does your baby actually need glasses? (No, I just like to dress him up in costumes).
*Mommy, look at that silly baby with glasses!
*You must have a smart baby! (Yes, yes I do. Now that he has the glasses. Before, he was a moron).
*Hey, it's Ralphie! (From A Christmas Story)
*Hey, Where's Waldo? (This is the second time I've heard this.)
*Hey, it's a Poindexter baby! (Also the second time I've heard this. The first person to say this was Joel's Ear-Nose-Throat doctor, right before his surgery).
Joel has this penguin toy that he really really likes. It is his Personal Penguin, and "Wherever it goes, he'll go there too/here and there and everywhere/And always with you" (apologies to Sandra Boynton and her children's book, Your Personal Penguin).
Please enjoy the baby Poindexter/Personal Penguin cuteness...while I go take another Advil.