I pretend to be a pony and make snorting noises and carry Faith while doing a Monty Python-esque horse trot around the house, just because she giggles when I do that.
I make her pizza for lunch and then share my Oreos with her:
|You had me at "Limited Edition"|
|I can't believe I had to wait 14 months to have an Oreo|
|How do they fit so much deliciousness in this little cookie?|
|Mommy, this piece is missing creme filling.|
I'm raising her to be a very high tech baby. She already knows how to open my lap top and hit buttons that do awful things to my computer.
|I need to tweet|
One thing I don't rock at? Trying to teach the kid to not be abusive to the dog. Evidence:
Please disregard my vain attempts to reason with a 1 year old. Sometimes it works, but usually it doesn't.
Also, you know how you see adorable pictures on some people's blogs of their kids peacefully sleeping in their crib? Well, yesterday Faith was napping for too long and I had to go wake her anyway, so I decided to see if I could take a picture of how cute she looks when she sleeps. Or...I could take a picture of a really pissed off baby all tangled in her sleep sack.
|Please note the baby gnaw marks on the crib railing|
|You are SO MEAN Mommy.|
Don't even get me started on the many ways I rock at being a wife.
Husband looking at stack of unwashed dishes
Me: Yeah, I didn't do those yet. For some reason, I'm tired.
H: Did the baby give you a hard time today?
Me: No, I think it's because my training plan is making me run more.
H: Really? Your training plan for a 50 mile race is making you run a lot? And that makes you tired? That's shocking!
Me: [Smacking husband]
How do you rock at being a parent/wife/girlfriend/sister/whatever?
Are you a sucker for limited edition stuff like me?