To give you an accurate idea of what state my house is in, I’ll tell you that as I write this I can detect the smell of baby poop wafting around. I have neglected to throw out a dirty diaper and left it to warm in the summer sun on our dining room table. Yes, this is the dedication I have to the craft of writing. I knew it was now or never, so poop and its potent nostril attack strategy be damed. It is time to blog! I’ve just put our son down to nap and it brought to mind a story for your enjoyment. It is an account on our recent battles with sleep and getting our son to stop disrespecting this,…
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In truth it has been difficult to blog recently. I’d love to use my usual excuse, the every-popular, “How can I write, I have a screaming, pooping ankle biter running around!” But, the truth is, I could find time during the baby’s naps or on the (few and far between) evenings when Hubby is home. There is nothing I enjoy more than sticking him with the baby as I say “Your sperm and stupidity made this, now parent damn you.” He never complains, in fact he usually smiles and says to a wriggling Jo in his arms, “Ah, hello my son, your mom is crazy. Let’s continue your education, say … Yo-da. Yo-Daaaa.” At this point once Jeff is distracted with trying to get…
