The Last 3 Months...Clip Show Style

So I've been gone. It's probably something you did. But thankfully I finally forgave you.

When last we met, it was Mother's Day and The Bean and I shared cake OCD style. Since then, things have happened. Nothing earth-shattering.

Except this:

Why yes, that is a vacuumed carpet. You may start worshiping me any time now.


Then there was the Baby Bird Rescue of 2012. Did you hear about it on the news? No? Well, it was more of a regional story. In my backyard. It consumed my life for a week and a half as I rescued the same baby robin no less than three times. Once after he fell out of a tree; once from the jaws of my cat; and once when he got trapped in a fence. He lived and flew away with not so much as a thank you.

Ungrateful nit. Should've let the cat eat you.

Then The Bean turned one. Which most people say is a momentous occasion. I celebrated by vacuuming the carpet again.

We also felt since she was now a mature young lady, this was the right moment to teach The Bean that the world is a cruel place where mothers bake you cakes that look like giant turds, force you to stand in front of a room full of strangers in a bathing suit and let you grab burning candles.

After that we went on a trip. I realize now that I have a child the word vacation will never again apply to my life. 


As our fortune would have it, the trip coincided perfectly with Death Hotness from Hell Week which added an extra fun element - the 'let's stay in the air-conditioned hotel room where we will eat teacups and not go outside' element.

Then we did a bunch of boring things and The Bean barely enjoyed herself.

Until we met boys...at which point I determined The Bean will be home schooled and enter a nunnery at the ripe age of 16. Her behavior was completely inappropriate for the first date (of which she had a few - little hussy)...

Not napping or sleeping for 10 days straight because you're afraid you might miss all the things is exhausting, especially for a young lass. So she's been sleeping for a week.

And now you're about caught up.

She walks (like a drunken sailor).

She talks. "Babry (Baby)," "Dahg (Dog)," "Cah (Cat)," "Uh-oh (Uh-oh)," Da Da (Da Da)," and "Mum-Mum (as in the rice cracker snack - not me...I don't actually have a name)"

And is pretty groovy.

Two Minutes Hate

Dear children's book "authors,"

Thanks for ruining what I used to think would be one of those highlights of parenthood: reading with my daughter.


I'm looking at you, creators of the crafts-gone-bad "books" (felt, glitter and yarn glued onto a few photos of animals barely qualifies as a camp project, let alone a book).

There I am dutifully reading our animal book like every other parent of an infant:


"Cow. Moooooo."

"Pig. Oink, oink."

"Horse. Neigh, neigh."

"Tiger. Rawr."

And then, you coy, sadistic little a-holes throw in a picture of a turtle. What am I supposed to do with that?

The Bean looks up at me expecting a noise and I got nothing; you know she's thinking to herself "Jesus, this woman doesn't even know what a turtle says...I'm doomed."


She's my daughter...I assure you, she's judging me.


Thanks.


Mrs. D-Zo