GeauxBaby

GeauxBaby

the one where we fly with two littles

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Jack is not a seasoned traveler.

Trust me, we tried.  We flew to South Padre Island with my parents when Jack was a baby.  He was cute until the plane took off, at which time he started screaming so loud that other mothers on the plane rushed to my aid.  We did manage to get a cute picture of him near the cockpit.

Looking back at this, I clearly see in his eyes that he is about to let us have it.
I think the stewardess can feel it, too.

We also flew with Jack to Florida when he was slightly older and had a broken leg.  I can't even describe this flight in any more detail or I'll start to sweat from the memories of it all.  The blog post describing that was titled "Toddlerpocalypse." 

But we hadn't been to Albuquerque in ten years, Durel and I.  Which is entirely unacceptable.  And so, with the courage that comes from a few stressful weeks at work and a nice Pinot Noir, we had plane tickets and a plan.  The Bernards were going to the desert.

How was that, you ask?  

Can you fly direct from Austin to Albuquerque, you ask?

No, you cannot.  

Sigh.

Durel and I got up at 4:30 a.m. to shower, have coffee, and load the car.  We got the boys into the car (Jack even got dressed!) and were on our way.  We used the family friendly valet at the Austin airport which is THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD, and were through security without too much trouble.  My friend had lent me one of those things where you tie your baby onto you (the name of which I can never remember, but it's less cumbersome than a Moby).  

We felt good.  Really good.



We were scheduled to change planes in Dallas at Love Field.  They've recently renovated Love Field and it's totally nice now. 

Thank goodness for this.  


We had some breakfast.  We had more coffee.  We colored a picture.

And then, we learned that our one hour layover was extended, oh, indefinitely.  I'll save you the suspense.  It was extended to five hours.  

Did we lose our minds?  No.  Did we give our children to wandering gypsies?  No.  Did we tear our hair out?  Not really.  

We had lunch.  We visited all the shops.  We explored the terminal.  We colored pictures.  We made paper airplanes out of those pictures.  We learned that it's harder than you remember to make a good paper airplane.  We practiced our letters on the dry erase board.  We had snacks.  I adversely possessed the family bathroom.  All in all, we thrived and survived.

And arrived.



And as a testament to his awesomeness, not that we needed one, Sawyer slept most of the day.  Praise be.


Cristy and Dagwood were not only happy to see us, but they were prepared to reward our long day of travel with beverages containing alcohol.  We were happy to see them, too.  

It was not that bad.  And it was the only 'bump' in a great trip.

Hope you tell the first part of a super awesome story today.

Talk soon,
Heather

sawyer update

Monday, July 28, 2014

Sawyer is, quite simply, an awesome baby.

Here's proof:

-- He wakes up once a night to feed and goes straight back to sleep.  While I look forward to him sleeping through the night, this is pretty decent of him.

-- He giggles.  That's the best sound in the world.

-- He weighs 14 pounds, 12 ounces.  Not too shabby for a preemie.

-- He farts.  And apparently I'm a six year old boy, because that is HILARIOUS to me.

-- He's still allergic to dairy.  But I don't mind.  The only thing I miss is pizza, and I don't need to be eating pizza anyway.

-- He is about to roll over.  He makes it onto his side and then flails a bit with his legs.  Any day now, that flail will turn into a flip and it'll be a milestone.  Jack has taken it upon himself to work with Sawyer on rolling over.  Being a big brother requires you to step up, you know.



-- He is Batman.  (Oh, and he grasps things!)


I hope you use your super powers today.

Talk soon,
Heather

throwback thursday

Thursday, July 24, 2014

The Bernard family took to the air last week and visited the Albuquerque Davies and Reeves.  It was awesome.  Pictures and stories galore will be forthcoming.

In the meantime, as we return to work, inboxes, sleep training, and the (relative) humidity of the Texas Hill Country, I'll ask you to bear with us.

Oh, and it's Throwback Thursday.  Here's Jack and I for you, 4 years ago in the hazy summer days of 2010.


I can't remember who took this picture, but it was one of my Mama Friends from Jack's baby daycare.  I have that outfit in Sawyer's dresser right now.  I wonder if it would fit him, or if he's just dairy-free chunked up right past it.

Also, should I cut my hair?

Hope you ask an existential question inspired by a throwback today.

Talk soon,
Heather

in the dark of nap

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

I think it takes an angelic personality to care for babies all day.  (I mean, a poopy diaper is one thing.  But multiple poopy diapers a day?  Times like six babies?  Oy vey.  I repeat, angelic.)

Luckily, Sawyer's teacher has just that personality.  Durel and I think she's completely awesome.

Jack is usually too shy to talk to her, though he can't take his eyes off her.  I suspect Jack thinks she's completely awesome, too.

Sawyer's face lights up at the sound of her voice, and in the dark of nap time, he makes faces at her.





Apparently, the family vote on her awesomeness is unanimous.

Hope someone makes your face light up today.

Talk soon,
Heather

a life aquatic

Monday, July 7, 2014

Hey you guys.

Jack can swim.  

Like, he goes underwater and swims to the steps.  He can dive down and grab toys.  He uses his arms and legs in appropriate motions to move through the water.

He's pretty psyched about it.


We're pretty psyched about it, too.  

You can't NOT swim when you grow up in Texas.  It's hotter than hell.   Until you are old enough to drink frozen margaritas, swimming is pretty much the best way to cool off.  (Even when you're an adult, swimming *while* drinking a margarita is pretty great.)

On a related note, Jack is now seriously grown up.  He's 4 and a half.  He does very four and a half year old things like: strolling through the kitchen to the pantry and grabbing a snack.  Or, opening the fridge, grabbing two carrots, making the dogs sit, and rewarding them with the carrots as a treat.  (Our dogs love carrots.)

Also, his current career aspirations are to "feed Sawyer from a bottle" and "go swimming."  

I don't blame him one bit.


Hope you stroll somewhere for a snack today.

Talk soon,
Heather

a lyrical genius?

Monday, June 30, 2014



Jack takes music classes at school once a week.  Since he's 4 going on 14, we don't always hear the details of how music class was, but he drops clues that it's going well.

-- Walking around the house, singing, "Hello.  I love you won't you tell me your name?  Hello.  I love you let me jumpintoyourgame."

-- Observing on TV:  "Mom.  That's just an ACOUSTIC guitar."

Apparently his burgeoning music career has also made him listen more critically to the radio when we are in the car.  Specifically, he isn't sure that most songs are named the right, or most logical, thing.

Jack:    Mom, what is this song called?
Me:      Magic.
Jack:    [listens]  It should be called "I Don't Know."





Jack:     Mom, what is this song called?
Me:       Pompeii.
Jack:     [listens]  It should be called "If You Close Your Eyes."





The one song he hasn't bothered to rename, because we are both far too busy singing it, is La La La.  Don't judge.  It's catchy.

(Editor's Note:  The real video is cool, but seeing Sam Smith live is better.  And then David Letterman comes out at the end and is delightfully awkward.)



So, in the wake of becoming a big brother, that's what Jack's been up to lately.

Hope you rock out today.

Talk soon,
Heather

queso, wherefore art thou queso?

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

I didn't know about chile con queso until I moved to Austin in 2001.  I'm not sure how the opportunity to order a bowl of melted cheese in a restaurant (and eat it in public, without judgment) had escaped me for that long.  I've been making up for lost time ever since.

From Homesick Texan.  Disregard the sound of me, weeping.
That is, until two weeks ago.

My sweet angel of a newborn, Sawyer, is allergic to milk protein.  This happens to some babies; it's different than lactose intolerance; they usually outgrow it by age 1, if not age 3.  Fine.

What that means is that I cannot have any food with milk protein in it.  It also means that I cannot have any food with casein or whey protein in it.

[long pause]

UGH.

And so, as I mentioned, it has been two weeks of a Dairy-Free Heather.  Here are the highlights:

-- I don't miss cheese as much as I thought I would.
-- I haven't killed anyone!
-- Coconut milk creamer is awesome.
-- Almond milk yogurt is NOT awesome.
-- I miss yogurt more than I thought I would.
-- Thank God for peanut butter.
-- There is NO DAIRY in Oreos.  (Stop and think about that for a moment...)
-- I really like celery.  Plain.
-- Vegan chocolate chips are expensive.
-- I am not likely to make vegan chocolate chip cookies.
-- I like Lara bars.  Especially the blueberry ones.

The most important observation is that Sawyer is flourishing with my new diet.  His cheeks are rosy.  He's smiling.  His, um, digestion is vastly improved, shall we say.  (That is also how we diagnosed there was a problem.  It was in his diaper.  I'll leave it at that.)

Happier than Pharrell to be dairy-free.
I'm also avoiding as much soy as possible.  I am having NO dairy at all, and as little soy as I can.  Damn, Gina.  Soy is in EVERYTHING.  

We were already drinking almond milk at our house.  No big change there.

When you completely rule out dairy, you get really hungry, really fast.  

To be clear, I don't think formula is the devil.  But I do know that the formula that is both soy and dairy-free is approximately the price of our mortgage.  And that I can create milk for free, and it's better.

Also, yesterday I would have kicked a puppy for a cheese pizza.  And then, I saw Sawyer, that little bundle of dairy free awesomeness, and I didn't give a shit (pun not intended) about pizza.

Hope you do what you have to do today.

Talk soon,
Heather

what preemie?

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

This morning, Sawyer sat on Jack until he begged for mercy.


Sawyer doesn't really look like a preemie, does he?  In fact, I think he looks more like he is (1) outgrowing that onesie, which is a 6 month size, and (2) going to play rugby in college.

Jack, on the other hand, is more of a tennis player, I think.

Hope your calling is apparent today.

Talk soon,
Heather


big brotherisms

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Jack has decided that Sawyer looks like him, and that he looks like Sawyer.  This is endlessly pleasing to him.

I dug up some pictures of Jack at this age (pre-head control but ever so cute) to see how similar they are.

What do you think?  (They're easy to tell apart because of Sawyer's pesky hemangioma, but take a gander.)

Wiggles Lafitte, aka Sawyer.

Jack, featuring Ironic Onesie #1.

Jack, featuring Ironic Onesie #2.

Sawyer, preferring oxymorons to irony.
*     *     *     *     *

Aside from the unbearable joy of birthday parties, aging is a bit complex for four year old Jack.

After Sawyer's first week at daycare, Jack thought he would walk.  I am pretty sure Jack wanted Sawyer to morph into a four year old playmate, and I think that is heartrendingly adorable.

Ever the pragmatist, when that didn't happen, Jack adjusted his expectations.  So much so that when I asked him the other day what he wants to do when he grows up, he responded: 

"Feed Sawyer with a bottle.  Daddy does that.  When I get big, I want to do that."

He also wants to be a vet, but priorities, people.

*     *     *     *     *

Quick note regarding hemangiomas (or unexplained red bumps on my son's head).  They're harmless, unexplained vascular tumors that shrink and go away.  They're often called "strawberries" or "stork bites."  (Which is weird because ouch! stork!)  We have been assured that Sawyer's will go away, and I daresay we don't even really see it anymore.

I've told Jack's inquisitive classmates that it's a cross between a birthmark and a boo boo, and that it will go away.  One of his friends has thoughtfully told me upon repeat inspection that she's sure it's getting smaller.  (It's not, but Addie, you are a dear.)

The general public, however, does see it.  The best question I have been asked is this one, by a wonderfully innocent young man:

"Oh!  Did he get into a fight with another baby?"

Nope.  He didn't.  But when he does, I bet he'll win.

Hope your questions are innocent today.

Talk soon,
Heather

there shall be poo

Monday, June 16, 2014

Before Jack arrived, I was given this golden nugget of parenting advice:

If the blow-out is too bad, throw the onesie away.

When blow-outs happen, they scramble your brain.  You don't want to do what you know you have to do.  You panic nonsensically that you might have to use like TEN WIPES.  You don't understand why you went to graduate school.  It didn't prepare you for this.  Nothing has.  And how does the baby choose THAT MOMENT to smile at you, looking so pleased with himself?

I've shared the advice.  I've had friends come back to me and thank me for it.  Because their babies' blow-outs scrambled their brains, too, and the one clear thought they could muster was that it's okay to toss the bit of cotton and snaps that probably came from Target.  You don't have to clean it.  You are already demeaning yourself enough.

*     *     *     *     *

Sawyer and I took Jack to the dentist the other day.  He chose that moment to have a massive blow-out.  And, with the grit and determination of a second time mother, I cleaned it up and saved the onesie.  Because it's the fancy onesie with Texas and the guitar on it.

When you finish that selfie, you will realize that I have just shit in your lap, Mom.
I love you.
Sawyer was pretty pleased with himself.

Sawyer:  One
Mama:  Zero

Hope your dignity remains intact today.

Talk soon,
Heather

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

the one where we fly with two littles

Jack is not a seasoned traveler.

Trust me, we tried.  We flew to South Padre Island with my parents when Jack was a baby.  He was cute until the plane took off, at which time he started screaming so loud that other mothers on the plane rushed to my aid.  We did manage to get a cute picture of him near the cockpit.

Looking back at this, I clearly see in his eyes that he is about to let us have it.
I think the stewardess can feel it, too.

We also flew with Jack to Florida when he was slightly older and had a broken leg.  I can't even describe this flight in any more detail or I'll start to sweat from the memories of it all.  The blog post describing that was titled "Toddlerpocalypse." 

But we hadn't been to Albuquerque in ten years, Durel and I.  Which is entirely unacceptable.  And so, with the courage that comes from a few stressful weeks at work and a nice Pinot Noir, we had plane tickets and a plan.  The Bernards were going to the desert.

How was that, you ask?  

Can you fly direct from Austin to Albuquerque, you ask?

No, you cannot.  

Sigh.

Durel and I got up at 4:30 a.m. to shower, have coffee, and load the car.  We got the boys into the car (Jack even got dressed!) and were on our way.  We used the family friendly valet at the Austin airport which is THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD, and were through security without too much trouble.  My friend had lent me one of those things where you tie your baby onto you (the name of which I can never remember, but it's less cumbersome than a Moby).  

We felt good.  Really good.



We were scheduled to change planes in Dallas at Love Field.  They've recently renovated Love Field and it's totally nice now. 

Thank goodness for this.  


We had some breakfast.  We had more coffee.  We colored a picture.

And then, we learned that our one hour layover was extended, oh, indefinitely.  I'll save you the suspense.  It was extended to five hours.  

Did we lose our minds?  No.  Did we give our children to wandering gypsies?  No.  Did we tear our hair out?  Not really.  

We had lunch.  We visited all the shops.  We explored the terminal.  We colored pictures.  We made paper airplanes out of those pictures.  We learned that it's harder than you remember to make a good paper airplane.  We practiced our letters on the dry erase board.  We had snacks.  I adversely possessed the family bathroom.  All in all, we thrived and survived.

And arrived.



And as a testament to his awesomeness, not that we needed one, Sawyer slept most of the day.  Praise be.


Cristy and Dagwood were not only happy to see us, but they were prepared to reward our long day of travel with beverages containing alcohol.  We were happy to see them, too.  

It was not that bad.  And it was the only 'bump' in a great trip.

Hope you tell the first part of a super awesome story today.

Talk soon,
Heather

Monday, July 28, 2014

sawyer update

Sawyer is, quite simply, an awesome baby.

Here's proof:

-- He wakes up once a night to feed and goes straight back to sleep.  While I look forward to him sleeping through the night, this is pretty decent of him.

-- He giggles.  That's the best sound in the world.

-- He weighs 14 pounds, 12 ounces.  Not too shabby for a preemie.

-- He farts.  And apparently I'm a six year old boy, because that is HILARIOUS to me.

-- He's still allergic to dairy.  But I don't mind.  The only thing I miss is pizza, and I don't need to be eating pizza anyway.

-- He is about to roll over.  He makes it onto his side and then flails a bit with his legs.  Any day now, that flail will turn into a flip and it'll be a milestone.  Jack has taken it upon himself to work with Sawyer on rolling over.  Being a big brother requires you to step up, you know.



-- He is Batman.  (Oh, and he grasps things!)


I hope you use your super powers today.

Talk soon,
Heather

Thursday, July 24, 2014

throwback thursday

The Bernard family took to the air last week and visited the Albuquerque Davies and Reeves.  It was awesome.  Pictures and stories galore will be forthcoming.

In the meantime, as we return to work, inboxes, sleep training, and the (relative) humidity of the Texas Hill Country, I'll ask you to bear with us.

Oh, and it's Throwback Thursday.  Here's Jack and I for you, 4 years ago in the hazy summer days of 2010.


I can't remember who took this picture, but it was one of my Mama Friends from Jack's baby daycare.  I have that outfit in Sawyer's dresser right now.  I wonder if it would fit him, or if he's just dairy-free chunked up right past it.

Also, should I cut my hair?

Hope you ask an existential question inspired by a throwback today.

Talk soon,
Heather

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

in the dark of nap

I think it takes an angelic personality to care for babies all day.  (I mean, a poopy diaper is one thing.  But multiple poopy diapers a day?  Times like six babies?  Oy vey.  I repeat, angelic.)

Luckily, Sawyer's teacher has just that personality.  Durel and I think she's completely awesome.

Jack is usually too shy to talk to her, though he can't take his eyes off her.  I suspect Jack thinks she's completely awesome, too.

Sawyer's face lights up at the sound of her voice, and in the dark of nap time, he makes faces at her.





Apparently, the family vote on her awesomeness is unanimous.

Hope someone makes your face light up today.

Talk soon,
Heather

Monday, July 7, 2014

a life aquatic

Hey you guys.

Jack can swim.  

Like, he goes underwater and swims to the steps.  He can dive down and grab toys.  He uses his arms and legs in appropriate motions to move through the water.

He's pretty psyched about it.


We're pretty psyched about it, too.  

You can't NOT swim when you grow up in Texas.  It's hotter than hell.   Until you are old enough to drink frozen margaritas, swimming is pretty much the best way to cool off.  (Even when you're an adult, swimming *while* drinking a margarita is pretty great.)

On a related note, Jack is now seriously grown up.  He's 4 and a half.  He does very four and a half year old things like: strolling through the kitchen to the pantry and grabbing a snack.  Or, opening the fridge, grabbing two carrots, making the dogs sit, and rewarding them with the carrots as a treat.  (Our dogs love carrots.)

Also, his current career aspirations are to "feed Sawyer from a bottle" and "go swimming."  

I don't blame him one bit.


Hope you stroll somewhere for a snack today.

Talk soon,
Heather

Monday, June 30, 2014

a lyrical genius?



Jack takes music classes at school once a week.  Since he's 4 going on 14, we don't always hear the details of how music class was, but he drops clues that it's going well.

-- Walking around the house, singing, "Hello.  I love you won't you tell me your name?  Hello.  I love you let me jumpintoyourgame."

-- Observing on TV:  "Mom.  That's just an ACOUSTIC guitar."

Apparently his burgeoning music career has also made him listen more critically to the radio when we are in the car.  Specifically, he isn't sure that most songs are named the right, or most logical, thing.

Jack:    Mom, what is this song called?
Me:      Magic.
Jack:    [listens]  It should be called "I Don't Know."





Jack:     Mom, what is this song called?
Me:       Pompeii.
Jack:     [listens]  It should be called "If You Close Your Eyes."





The one song he hasn't bothered to rename, because we are both far too busy singing it, is La La La.  Don't judge.  It's catchy.

(Editor's Note:  The real video is cool, but seeing Sam Smith live is better.  And then David Letterman comes out at the end and is delightfully awkward.)



So, in the wake of becoming a big brother, that's what Jack's been up to lately.

Hope you rock out today.

Talk soon,
Heather

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

queso, wherefore art thou queso?

I didn't know about chile con queso until I moved to Austin in 2001.  I'm not sure how the opportunity to order a bowl of melted cheese in a restaurant (and eat it in public, without judgment) had escaped me for that long.  I've been making up for lost time ever since.

From Homesick Texan.  Disregard the sound of me, weeping.
That is, until two weeks ago.

My sweet angel of a newborn, Sawyer, is allergic to milk protein.  This happens to some babies; it's different than lactose intolerance; they usually outgrow it by age 1, if not age 3.  Fine.

What that means is that I cannot have any food with milk protein in it.  It also means that I cannot have any food with casein or whey protein in it.

[long pause]

UGH.

And so, as I mentioned, it has been two weeks of a Dairy-Free Heather.  Here are the highlights:

-- I don't miss cheese as much as I thought I would.
-- I haven't killed anyone!
-- Coconut milk creamer is awesome.
-- Almond milk yogurt is NOT awesome.
-- I miss yogurt more than I thought I would.
-- Thank God for peanut butter.
-- There is NO DAIRY in Oreos.  (Stop and think about that for a moment...)
-- I really like celery.  Plain.
-- Vegan chocolate chips are expensive.
-- I am not likely to make vegan chocolate chip cookies.
-- I like Lara bars.  Especially the blueberry ones.

The most important observation is that Sawyer is flourishing with my new diet.  His cheeks are rosy.  He's smiling.  His, um, digestion is vastly improved, shall we say.  (That is also how we diagnosed there was a problem.  It was in his diaper.  I'll leave it at that.)

Happier than Pharrell to be dairy-free.
I'm also avoiding as much soy as possible.  I am having NO dairy at all, and as little soy as I can.  Damn, Gina.  Soy is in EVERYTHING.  

We were already drinking almond milk at our house.  No big change there.

When you completely rule out dairy, you get really hungry, really fast.  

To be clear, I don't think formula is the devil.  But I do know that the formula that is both soy and dairy-free is approximately the price of our mortgage.  And that I can create milk for free, and it's better.

Also, yesterday I would have kicked a puppy for a cheese pizza.  And then, I saw Sawyer, that little bundle of dairy free awesomeness, and I didn't give a shit (pun not intended) about pizza.

Hope you do what you have to do today.

Talk soon,
Heather

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

what preemie?

This morning, Sawyer sat on Jack until he begged for mercy.


Sawyer doesn't really look like a preemie, does he?  In fact, I think he looks more like he is (1) outgrowing that onesie, which is a 6 month size, and (2) going to play rugby in college.

Jack, on the other hand, is more of a tennis player, I think.

Hope your calling is apparent today.

Talk soon,
Heather


Tuesday, June 17, 2014

big brotherisms

Jack has decided that Sawyer looks like him, and that he looks like Sawyer.  This is endlessly pleasing to him.

I dug up some pictures of Jack at this age (pre-head control but ever so cute) to see how similar they are.

What do you think?  (They're easy to tell apart because of Sawyer's pesky hemangioma, but take a gander.)

Wiggles Lafitte, aka Sawyer.

Jack, featuring Ironic Onesie #1.

Jack, featuring Ironic Onesie #2.

Sawyer, preferring oxymorons to irony.
*     *     *     *     *

Aside from the unbearable joy of birthday parties, aging is a bit complex for four year old Jack.

After Sawyer's first week at daycare, Jack thought he would walk.  I am pretty sure Jack wanted Sawyer to morph into a four year old playmate, and I think that is heartrendingly adorable.

Ever the pragmatist, when that didn't happen, Jack adjusted his expectations.  So much so that when I asked him the other day what he wants to do when he grows up, he responded: 

"Feed Sawyer with a bottle.  Daddy does that.  When I get big, I want to do that."

He also wants to be a vet, but priorities, people.

*     *     *     *     *

Quick note regarding hemangiomas (or unexplained red bumps on my son's head).  They're harmless, unexplained vascular tumors that shrink and go away.  They're often called "strawberries" or "stork bites."  (Which is weird because ouch! stork!)  We have been assured that Sawyer's will go away, and I daresay we don't even really see it anymore.

I've told Jack's inquisitive classmates that it's a cross between a birthmark and a boo boo, and that it will go away.  One of his friends has thoughtfully told me upon repeat inspection that she's sure it's getting smaller.  (It's not, but Addie, you are a dear.)

The general public, however, does see it.  The best question I have been asked is this one, by a wonderfully innocent young man:

"Oh!  Did he get into a fight with another baby?"

Nope.  He didn't.  But when he does, I bet he'll win.

Hope your questions are innocent today.

Talk soon,
Heather

Monday, June 16, 2014

there shall be poo

Before Jack arrived, I was given this golden nugget of parenting advice:

If the blow-out is too bad, throw the onesie away.

When blow-outs happen, they scramble your brain.  You don't want to do what you know you have to do.  You panic nonsensically that you might have to use like TEN WIPES.  You don't understand why you went to graduate school.  It didn't prepare you for this.  Nothing has.  And how does the baby choose THAT MOMENT to smile at you, looking so pleased with himself?

I've shared the advice.  I've had friends come back to me and thank me for it.  Because their babies' blow-outs scrambled their brains, too, and the one clear thought they could muster was that it's okay to toss the bit of cotton and snaps that probably came from Target.  You don't have to clean it.  You are already demeaning yourself enough.

*     *     *     *     *

Sawyer and I took Jack to the dentist the other day.  He chose that moment to have a massive blow-out.  And, with the grit and determination of a second time mother, I cleaned it up and saved the onesie.  Because it's the fancy onesie with Texas and the guitar on it.

When you finish that selfie, you will realize that I have just shit in your lap, Mom.
I love you.
Sawyer was pretty pleased with himself.

Sawyer:  One
Mama:  Zero

Hope your dignity remains intact today.

Talk soon,
Heather
 
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