I was pretty proud of myself this morning for managing to avoid this whole “Harlem shakes” thing that’s been floating around Facebook all week. And by floating around Facebook, I mean everyone is posting about it and making it really hard for people to notice when I post pictures of my baby.
Well, this morning I succumbed. I watched a “best of the Harlem shakes” video. It’s just people gyrating around rooms. Some of them had helmets on. Some of them were humping walls. One guy was punching a blow-up giraffe. I don’t know. I just don’t know.
While we all ponder why I grown man would have a blow-up giraffe, I’ll get started on my week in review.
We were slackers and took Wyatt’s 3 month pictures on Monday instead of Friday when he really turned 3 months old. I think he knew.
I have this notebook I write down important things in. Things I need to do. Stuff I need to buy. Anything important or happy or funny that happened that day. On Tuesday I wrote “nothing significant.” So that should give you some idea of how that day went.
Wednesday probably would have ended up much like Tuesday, except an egg exploded all over my face. Everyone was sleeping, but I was up and about working when I decided I need an egg sandwich in my belly like 10 minutes ago. So made my egg in a cup. For those of you unfamiliar with this brilliant egg-cooking method, you just crack an egg into a coffee mug (I spray it with some cooking spray first) and stick it in the microwave for 45-60 seconds. And presto, you have an egg that’s the perfect size for an egg sandwich. Well when I tipped the cup toward me to make sure the yolk was cooked to my rigid specifications the whole damn egg exploded on me. Seriously. Let me tell you, there are better ways to spend your morning than frantically trying to peel scalding hot egg off your eyelids.
Two words: Shamrock Shake. I have nothing else to say.
I decided I want to make sure that when Wyatt is older and thinks I’m a moron I’ll have something to give him to make him feel guilty about not liking me. So I started writing him letters that he he can read later. It was supposed to be sweet and sentimental but I just ended up sobbing onto a plate of cookies while I thought about how much I love my baby. I might need to get myself on Xanax if I’m going to keep trying to write these things.
I made a fatal error in judgement on Saturday. I wanted to get out of the house so I suggested we go walk around the Mall of America. What.A.Nightmare. I was expecting it to be busy, but I was not prepared for the horde of people that we encountered. Nor was I mentally equipped to handle it when I saw a guy clipping his fingernails off the balcony on the third floor. Why does Jesus let these things happen? I also got totally hustled outside of Sam’s Club.
Until you have a baby that requires a car seat and a stroller and a 23 pound bag of necessities, you simply cannot appreciate what a luxury it is to leave your house with just a purse. I stood in the middle of Kohl’s yesterday, by myself, doing this on the inside: