First off, CONGRATULATIONS to Lara and family on the arrival of adorable Eli. Thanks for e-mailing photos -- now you just have to post a couple here (like you have time for that, I'm sure).
Second, evidently I am the only one here with a humiliating life. Where are your dark confessions, ladies? Here's my latest. It's too icky to post a photo, so text will have to suffice . . .
Yesterday Mila and I went to the library, where she promptly dirtied her drawers. As the back of my car was full of mama junk, I had to change her over the front console. Upon arriving home several errands later, I piled our books, a sippy cup, my purse, and other flotsam into a bag of new shirts, thus enabling myself to get inside in one trip. This, next to the aforementioned acrobatic diaper change, was the great accomplishment of my day.
Sadly, things quickly went downhill: Emptying the bag, I spotted a suspicious smear on one of the books. Something brown. And stinky. Yup, Mila's poop had somehow found its way onto a library book -- and god knows what else; I haven't dared do a full sniff search yet.
Caleb assures me that this is not something I have to report to Dewey Decimal, but who wants to take the word of someone who plays with urine for a living? So, fellow friends of the public library, please advise: should I confess, buy a replacement, or just hit the thing with another round of bleach and consider my conscience (if not the book) clean???
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment