Good and Bad

There are a million, bazillion joys I absolutely freaking LOVE about being a mommy. No seriously, I cry 172 times a week over tiny things that sass does to absolutely melt my heart. But with the good, someeeetimeeeesssss is a leeeeettttttlllle bit bad.

1.) Dressing the sass: in the beginning she just laid there. A beautiful 7 pounds of squishy baby who just laid there and let me dress her. At first I was petrified her head would roll off or I would dislocate a limb trying to squeeze her into onesies but how I so miss those easy days. As she became mobile, dressing her became an absolute nightmare. Sweating, squealing, screaming and that was just me. Now that I am home with her, I don’t usually put clothes on the kid unless we have to go somewhere. Lately she has taken to acting like a paraplegic and just laying there limp as I try to put pants on her. Then when we move on to the shirt she turns into a member of the walking dead. Her arms get stiff with rigor mortis and she thrashes around like you’re trying to hog tie a pig until I get her head in the head hole. So no clothes is best. We are a nudist colony.

2. Going to the bathroom: whether it’s a quickie or not I have an audience regardless. I try to do my bizz as fast as humanly possible before she even knows I walked into the bathroom. If I fail at that mission, I have a head full of blonde curls trying to move my toosh to see if I “poofed”, need assistance wiping (shit ya not she rolls up the TP and tries to wipe me), or juuuuust in case I forgot how to flush, she’s got that for me. Typically the flush happens before I am done and I end up getting a little unwanted bidet spritz on my heiney. (Yes I googled how to spell Bidet)

3. Cooking: most tasks in the kitchen are rough with sass. Tonight while cutting up raw chicken sass stood at the island pointing and chatting my ear off. Then with the speed of lightening she poked a piece with her tiny finger, immediately stuck her finger in her mouth and exclaimed “NUMMMMM!” I almost died. I had a full fledge panic attack. I swooped her tiny ass up and ran her to the sink washed her face, tongue, hands, everything. All while gagging and choking down vomit at the very thought of it all. Stay tuned on how sass’s poop front is pending the raw chicken poke/lick.

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