Almost Perfect

First birthdays are a huge deal. Though it has been repeatedly pointed out to me that the baby won't remember his first birthday, I hardly see that as the point. 

This is the point (Justin pay attention):

The first year of a baby's life is incredible. They grow, change and learn so quickly. The pace is slightly heartbreaking. You barely have time to hold the baby before they are sitting up......crawling......walking. Time moves fast and your perfectly swaddled bundle is soon sitting in a high-chair covered in frosting. All the sleepless nights, all the feedings, all the diaper changes, the teething and the rest of it - you've survived - so has baby. This is cause to celebrate.

With Jack's first birthday looming, Justin offered this suggestion:

"Abbie, just make a cake from a box, call our parents to come over, we'll sing Happy Birthday and just be done with it."

Um, no.

Husband, you've obviously never pushed a living being through your body. If you had, you would realize that what you just said is quite possibly the stupidest thing you've ever spoken. Call me a birthday snob, but I believe that birthing an infant deserves more than a nod from Duncan Hines. 

Well, Sunday was Jack's first birthday party and boy, did I think I had pulled off something great. I had everything perfectly planned and it really turned out well. I was quite pleased with myself. It was a perfect first birthday party. I had done a good job. 

Almost.

The next day, I received this text while taking Hadley to soccer: 

To clarify, he meant oven - not stove. He meant to say "Holy f*cking Oven Fire." I suppose I'll cut him some slack seeing as that he was texting me while our house was filling with smoke and our children were suffocating. 

In a mad dash to tidy up before the party, I had placed a tupperware container full of cookies in the oven. I guess I forgot to take them out because as Justin was pre-heating the oven for a gourmet feast of Tyson chicken nuggets he was met by the smell of burnt plastic accompanied by some pretty impressive flames.

Damn. Now what? How do I clean melted plastic out of the oven? I'm afraid the oven might be ruined.

Now please don't worry. We won't starve without our oven. I'm not sure I even need an oven. What do I make in there anyways? Nuggets? Fish Sticks?

I'm pretty sure I can make those in the microwave. 

Well, Happy First Birthday Jack!  Subsequent birthdays will be celebrated with Duncan Hines cake batter. 

A Video

A reader shared this video with me, and I thought I'd share it with all of you. 

I love it when people see videos about poop and think of me. 

I suppose I brought this on myself.

Isn't it Romantic

Justin and I are pretty big Harry Potter fans. Loved the books. Loved the movies. We couldn't wait to see the final installment of the series but it was released when we were on vacation so we missed its debut. Fast-forward a few weeks later, and we finally booked a babysitter and made plans to go see the movie.


The movie was to start at 6:40. We arrived in enough time to buy tickets, popcorn and get to our seats. I was so stoked as Justin and I don't go to the movies often. After this date, I'm doubting we'll ever go again.


As we went to buy our tickets we were informed that they yanked the movie from the theater that morning, and it was no longer showing.


We were disappointed but decided we'd just see something else. Justin wanted to see Planet of the Apes, and I wanted to see Crazy Stupid Love. This is where it all goes wrong. 

I could not be persuaded to see a movie about monkeys taking over the world nor could Justin be persuaded to see anything with the word love in its title.


I thought my ace in the hole would be Steve Carrell (Justin loves The Office) who was starring in Crazy Stupid Love, but it wasn't enough. The guy wasn't budging - he was seeing the damn monkey movie.


"Fine," I told him. "I'll see the monkey movie, but I guess I'm just disappointed in you because I feel like a real gentleman would see the movie his wife wanted to see."


Boo-Yah. That did it. Two tickets for Crazy Stupid Love please.


We found our seats directly behind three elderly women whose age was made evident by their bouffant hair. 


Ten minutes into the movie and I'd had enough. Justin didn't say a word but his body language was deafening: There was the slumping, the sighing, the texting, the giving the finger to the screen....


"FINE!" I whispered harshly. "Go see the monkeys."


He didn't need to hear that twice. He was gone and the mother-f*cker took the popcorn with him.


If we were dating, I'm pretty sure this is when we'd break-up. 


But he put a ring on it years ago, so I guess its until death do us part or at least until we go to another movie.

Temporary Insanity

I was on my way to Wal-Mart  when, as if on cue, the baby pooped. 


I decided to change him on the drivers seat of the mini-van before we went inside. 


As I was changing him, my car door barely tapped a black sporty car parked next to me. As I moved to pick him up - it tapped it again. And it was a TAP - a teeny tiny TAP.


Not a dent or scratch was made, but before I could gather my items to go inside a twenty-something girl emerged from her car and screeched at me:


"YOU!!!" You need to stop banging into my car!" 


She looked like a wild animal that was spewing young stupid girl venom at me. The look in her eyes was half-crazed and there was nothing to do but apologize.


I said I was sorry, and I was. I hadn't intended to tap her car. 


"What-EVER!" she snapped at me and then, without even inspecting her car, she went inside.


I got fired up. 


What a b*tch! All high and mighty in her sporty black car....she has no idea that within a few years she'll have put on about 30lbs and be changing diapers in her own minivan - now that will give her something to be bitchy about.


Then something happened to me - Rage? PMS? Oh wait - this is what could possibly be classified as temporary insanity. 


I took the dirty diaper (before you think I've totally lost my mind, I'd like to clarify that the diaper was wrapped and the poop was contained)  and put it on her windshield. I then put Jack back in his carseat and sped away.


It was a total rush. I suppose this is what happens after staying at home with children for 6 years, you finally crack and start hurling poop at people - kind of like a monkey in a cage.


I called Justin to let him know what I had done.


JUSTIN: Is this the kind of stuff you're out doing while I'm at work?


ME: Well, not everyday.


JUSTIN: Well, what about getting groceries?


ME: Oh, um, yeah, I kind of forgot about that. Wanna go out for dinner tonight?


JUSTIN: Abbie, go pick up the diaper.


ME: Never! No Way!


Click.


ME: Hello???


Ok, was I proud of what I had done? No, not really. 


Was it the nice, right thing to do? Definitely not. 


Did it feel good? Absolutely. I think those poop-hurling monkeys are onto something.