My life is a train wreck. My husband of course made the diaper run today regardless of the fact that the diapers were purchased (by me) on the day after the ill-fated chicken incident; he just had to get more himself. In order to prove that these activities take no time at all he proceeded to prove this to me by presenting his time stamped receipt of when he pulled into Costco for gas and when his receipt showed that he checked out with his purchases. I give up. We’ve completely missed the point here – my husband is documenting receipts like I am the IRS.
When I am not trying desperately to put myself into labor, poison my husband or actually get my work done, I am answering to a two year old. Yes, this photo is of the infamous Stanley who clearly is not ready for the birth of his sister next week (evidenced by the fact that he continues to kick me continuously and I swear he is aiming for my stomach.) He is desperate to spit out his food (on me just before gynormous client appointment), screech at the top of his lungs (English and Spanish – natch, we’re in LA) and then have complete meltdowns when his big brother goes to school. I give up, I think I need Dr. Laura.
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