Sad, sad, sad.

What's more embarassing than buying a book called "How to Start a Conversation and Make Friends" on a Friday night?

...Having a cashier who reads the title of the book out loud for all to hear and laughs about it. (after you carefully hid the book under your arm while browsing so no one would see)

At such a moment you may be tempted to tell the clerk that the book is actually for your mom, which it isn't, so don't. All that does is prove that you really do need such a manual.

The Moping Pig

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Variation on the baby leash

A new and unexpected way to keep a baby in one place. Tethered by his own addiction.

Ooh sooo satisfying.

PA the place of brotherly love or something

If Wisconsinites are the nicest people in America, Pennsylvanians are the bossiest.

Last summer we spent a couple months in the WI and overall they were noticabebly more friendly than people in any other place that I've visited. Since coming to Pennsylvania over a month ago one thing I've observed is that they seem to be overly helpful, maybe even to the point of being rude.

For example, the Costco samples lady who told Brady, "you're not going to give that ham to your baby ARE YOU?!?!" Apparently its common knowledge that one year olds shouldn't have spiral cut honey baked ham?

And the random neighbor who knocked on our door to tell us we cant put our trash by our doorstep. Its not like we keep it there, I just wanted Brady to take it down on his way to work. It sat there for about 45 minutes total.

Or whenever I accidently drive the wrong way down a one way road (of which there are many here) they aggresively inform me that I'm going the wrong way (as if I'm supposed to just know that!) I'm like chill out people, I'm not from here. I'm from california where our roads go both ways.

Sorry Pennsylvania but you and your lack of sufficient road signs, and your bugs, and your sweaty air are wearing me out.

The incident

There are some moments in parenthood where you start to feel like, "I got this"
You feel like you can handle the ups and downs of this constant responsibility. Well last night was NOT one of those moments.

Hunter turned one yesterday and we had the grandparents over for some presents and pizza and a practice monkey cake (I'm making the real one for his party Saturday). That was fun and after they left we went on a relaxing walk and I put him down for the night. After a couple hours of fussing he finally seemed to be sleeping but the crying began again and Brady went in to check on him.

He then came out of the room with Hunter who was covered from head to toe in VOMIT. My reaction was dramatic, to say the least. There was a lot of gagging and heaving and crying meanwhile poor little Hunter was more confused than anything. I pulled it together enough to peel away the soaked clothes and hose him off in the tub.

By the end of his bath he was quite content and good as new. I on the other hand was deeply traumatized. My legs were weak and shaky for the rest of the night and I couldn't get the smell out of my nose. The words keep going through my head, as I tried to sleep, "I can't do this, I CAN'T do this." Sure I've been spit up on, pooped on, and peed on multiple times sometimes simultaneously but vomit, I cannot handle.

...other than that it was a great first birthday.

Say It...Out Loud

(my child is a) VAMPIRE.

He may look innocent but hidden behind that adorable smile and chubby cheeks are some razor sharp little teeth looking for their next victim.

This picture was from his most recent attack. My brother has a similar wound on his back and I have others in various stages of healing.

Shoes. Phones. Books. Metal. Glass. Remotes. Chairs. etc.

He'll bite it all as fast as he can grab it. But he especially likes to gnaw on mommy, I can tell because he smiles as he clamps down.

Some Things he won't bite:

Daddy (a slight that causes some hurt feelings)

Mission Tortillas (he only likes the kind you cook yourself)

Here he is sharpening his fangs. Notice the red eyes.

Luckily we have a couple years of training until preschool. Its one thing to be the parent of a nose picker or an ant licker but to be the parent of a known biter? Please. Not me.

Something I think we all can relate to