I just did something I never thought I would do. I went to the mall wearing make-up from yesterday. What? It happened. If my 25 year-old self could have witnessed my present 32 year-old self wearing day old make-up in public, some sort of dramatic intervention might have taken place.
But, let's be real here. It turns out that motherhood has found me being ok with a plethora of things I would not have done in my past Sam-less life. I feel like I should list those things here for your entertainment or for you to feel like you're a little less alone. Here goes.
-I wear the same two pairs of yoga capri pants more than anyone should be allowed to in a week.
-I wear the same said pairs of yoga pants IN PUBLIC. Never thought this one would happen, but it has. I justify it by also wearing lip gloss.
-I am ok with wearing things that have been slightly spit up on. Sometimes, more than slightly is ok, depending on how tired I am and how many times I've already changed my shirt that day. I'm considering patenting my design for a shirt made entirely of burp-cloths.
-Regardless of how hard I try, I am late for almost everything. If you and I are meeting somewhere for lunch, please allow 15-20 minutes extra for me to arrive. I promise it's for a good reason (i.e. I just got thrown up on, someone's diaper just exploded as we were walking out the door, or someone is taking a nap which is lasting about 2.5 hours longer than normal).
-I am ok with being sneezed on, even in my face at 2 inch range. This is really more of a babies-only thing, but if you do happen to sneeze in my face, I'll be a lot more laid-back about it than I would have been 6 months ago.
-I hardly ever know what's going on in a movie or tv show because I've usually missed the important plot twists while changing a diaper or two or three. My husband is now the King of Recaps.
-I type emails with one hand, and more recently blog posts. Speaking of that, the babe is requiring two hands at the moment, (i.e. someone just made a deposit in his diaper) so I'll conclude for now.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
An entire post about the weather.
It's HOT. I keep saying this to my husband and to friends on the phone and to cashiers at the grocery store. I'm tired of hearing myself say it, but I can't seem to stop. This is my first summer with a babe (Sam, 6 months and 1 week) and it turns out that carrying an extra (almost) 16 pounds on my hip just makes me hotter. Sadly, only in a temperature-related way, not in a Paris Hilton sort of way.
Currently, it's about 95 degrees here and I'm hanging out in a 70 degree house eating the occasional popsicle and standing over the occasional air vent. I should be used to this heat. I was born and raised in Georgia (read: HOTlanta) for crying out loud. But, alas, I'm a big wimp when it comes to anything above 85 degrees. I should probably be required to turn in my Southern Belle card.
On a semi-related note, while driving home this afternoon from meeting a friend for lunch at my favorite place in Knoxville, (The French Market on Gay St.) I pulled up behind what seemed at first to be a nice little white convertible. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a Ford Focus whose owner had somewhat awkwardly cut the top off of his car. At first I was appalled at the lack of foresight (What will he do when it rains? What about when it turns cold again, if that ever happens?) but that was mixed with something like admiration. Perhaps this driver of the altered Ford Focus was on to something. Perhaps my Jeep Grand Cherokee could also go through a similar transformation and allow Sam and I to feel the wind in our hair as we drove down the hot interstate. I took another look at the Ford Focus "convertible" and decided that, in fact, I should not make that man my role model. Still, when you're living in 95 degrees (100 degree heat index) you find that things like cutting the top off of your sedan sound like a good idea. Evidence, perhaps, that extreme heat kills brain cells
The babe is stirring. Time for one of those aforementioned diaper changes.
Currently, it's about 95 degrees here and I'm hanging out in a 70 degree house eating the occasional popsicle and standing over the occasional air vent. I should be used to this heat. I was born and raised in Georgia (read: HOTlanta) for crying out loud. But, alas, I'm a big wimp when it comes to anything above 85 degrees. I should probably be required to turn in my Southern Belle card.
On a semi-related note, while driving home this afternoon from meeting a friend for lunch at my favorite place in Knoxville, (The French Market on Gay St.) I pulled up behind what seemed at first to be a nice little white convertible. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a Ford Focus whose owner had somewhat awkwardly cut the top off of his car. At first I was appalled at the lack of foresight (What will he do when it rains? What about when it turns cold again, if that ever happens?) but that was mixed with something like admiration. Perhaps this driver of the altered Ford Focus was on to something. Perhaps my Jeep Grand Cherokee could also go through a similar transformation and allow Sam and I to feel the wind in our hair as we drove down the hot interstate. I took another look at the Ford Focus "convertible" and decided that, in fact, I should not make that man my role model. Still, when you're living in 95 degrees (100 degree heat index) you find that things like cutting the top off of your sedan sound like a good idea. Evidence, perhaps, that extreme heat kills brain cells
The babe is stirring. Time for one of those aforementioned diaper changes.