mercredi 21 août 2013

my new job title

I have no idea what I’m doing.Every other day or so it will hit me like a 2 ton Rhinoceros that I am someone’s mom. And as luck would have it, it’s not just someone’s, it’s OBaby’s. Of all the wonderful, chubby cheeked, Scandinavian babies out there, how did I end up with the perfectest one? The world will never know. I certainly don’t deserve him, that’s for sure.He is looking a bit of pudge lately. This is entirely ok with me, until I’m wearing him in his sling in Trader Joe’s and an older woman (or five) guffaws when I say that he’s only 2 and 1/2 months old. “What a big little boy!” , “O my! What a grower then!” and “He must be eating well!” have all escaped the mouths of complete strangers. Quick, if I blink I’m sure I’ll be standing in Target receiving unsolicited parenting advice before I know it.“O, my daughter used to do that all the time too. What worked for me was…” “Cool. And I totally value your advice too, given your credentials and all. Wait, who are you again?”Anyway, all this size attention (DID I MENTION HIS FATHER IS 6FT 2?!) has made a liar out of me.“How old is your little one?”“Three months.”And there it is. I have lied to absolute strangers to avoid hearing their opinion of my son’s percentile rankings.He still mostly wears 0-3 months size, thankyouverymuch.O, and I’ve earned a sizable F on my consumption of the last two organic CSA veggie boxes we’ve gotten from our farm. I threw away handfuls of (expensive) rotten veggies and kicked myself the whole time. It seems I can’t in fact do it all.Speaking of lazy, did I mention this is day 3 in a row of OBaby wearing disposable diapers? We seem to instigate a cloth diaper sabbath every other Sunday around here. Interestingly, this is about as often as we get out of bed and make it to church as well.I have all but given up on the O My Family dog. So much so in fact, that we’re having the conversation in our house this week. Yes that one. Does the puppy stay or go? Stay means I need to be ok with her running away from me when I let her out of the house to potty, ok with her eating the tortillas out of the grocery bag that I left on the ground 3 minutes too long, and ok with her eating used kleenexes out of the bathroom trashcan EVERY TIME I TURN AROUND. Going would mean she would live with O My In-Laws for an undetermined amount of time which she would absolutely love and so would they, but I feel like A) a failure and B) a failure.Really, Allison, a 6lb dog is just too much to handle, what with your infant son who regularly sleeps 8 hours at a time and has pretty much been an angel from the moment you pushed him from your womb?Ugh. I know. But did I mention the tortillas? And the pen she chewed up on our comforter that left an ink stain? The poop she left in the kitchen last week? It makes me wonder if she was this naughty before and I just didn’t care because, what? She’s only a 6lb dog.All this to say: I’m a lazy, lying, organic-veggie-wasting, disposable-diaper-using, church-skipping tiny dog hater.Fabulous. Cheers!Boy, that stuff is so much more fun to say without all that “not” business.

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