I put The Who in a red, white, and blue outfit yesterday. I even wore one myself. I don’t consider myself unpatriotic, per se, but I am not a “flag-waver.” Having a kid has made me dispense with my party-poopin’ ways and subscribe to theme-dressing. I am mostly ok with this. However, if I ever wear a “Christmas sweater” (you know the kind I mean), please take the wheel because clearly I have lost my mind and shouldn’t be driving.
I am trying to think of a way to instill a love of nature in The Who without actually having to spend much time in it myself. I do not enjoy bugs, creatures, or sweating. I do not like to get dirty, be dirty, or play in dirt. I totally want him to love these things. (Although if he doesn’t enjoy catching and keeping snakes and toads, that would be completely fine with me.) I can send him to camp when he’s old enough, but if he’s anything like I was, his lack of early exposure to gross nature will make him less than excited about it when the time comes. Help.
Every day, I change my mind about whether or not to keep the cats. They are such a pain in ass. But then yesterday, The Who asked Simon if he wanted a “sandwich” that he was making in his play kitchen. All together now: awwwwwwww.
I am one click away from ordering fire truck big-boy underwear from The Gap. This says two things: 1) my baby is almost a boy! 2) the only way to avoid Disney-themed toddler underwear is to order overpriced three-packs online.
I’m going to see a movie this afternoon. My third in as many weeks. “What stay-at-home-mom does that?” my friend hooted at me via text. Is it really that weird for an [almost] middle-aged mama to squeeze in a movie in the middle of the day when the kid’s napping away at daycare? I didn’t think so, but now I am rethinking. (I’m still going, though. Popcorn, air conditioning, and Tom Hanks are too compelling.)
There will be a return to semi-post-protection here. Entries with full-face photos of The Who will be password protected. If you’re in the Circle of Trust, you know the password (comment and ask for it if you don’t) and if you’re not, sorry. Truly, I am, but I have to take at least a rudimentary stab at privacy.