- Trapped in North Jersey
- Bend it Like Becker (her giveaway has already happened, but please go visit her sparkly site anyways; it's my fault for sucking that this notice didn't go up sooner.)
You know those days when you just throw your (manicured) hands in the air in admitted parental defeat and admit that life just isn't going quite the way you thought it would today? Darlings, I confess I've been a bit overwhelmed with a few of those lately. It's been a real cellulite smacker, as one of my besties recently, perfectly coined the phrase.
Said Anonymous Friend, also a Smug Mummy to a beautiful, boisterous toddler boy, was doing the over-the-shoulder move in the mirror while getting dressed one morning- ladies, you know the one where you sneakily take an ASSessment of what's going on back there in the privacy of a dressing room or similar? The AF is a teeny-tiny knockout by anyone's standards; nevertheless she was lamenting the altered state of her (formerly taut, gym-toned) landscape. She patted an evaluation chunk of thigh or two that had recently taken up residence there, sighed, then resumed dressing, only to be interrupted by her darling cherub . . . who ran up and started smacking her cellulite, cackling with glee as he watched the ripples.
The point is, there are days when these little guys are not only running our lives, they're dancing on the graves on our old ones. We wouldn't trade it for anything, of course, but I thought only sorority rushes of legend involved highlighting one's cellulite - do we have to bring hazing to the playground set as well?
In all seriousness, Master P is just in a challenging phase right now; though he has yet to take aim at my padded post-child thighs, he's run me ragged lately with his ever-changing, ever-shorter nap schedule. My formerly independent little guy now wants Mama around whenever he's awake; granted, I'm happy to do just that - it is my job, in fact - but gone are the days when I could leisurely sip my coffee & catch up on the
And yet. Yet. This too shall pass. And when I'm feeling most at my wit's end, he'll go and do something like this:
|Note the facial noodles: at least one of us enjoys my cooking.|