As she was doing her homework tonight Bean asked me tonight, "Mom, are napkins like erasers for people?" I laughed, and pondered it and agreed that yes, napkins are indeed erasers for our faces. They take the nasty away. Clever, clever Bean.
That was the last in a long list of amazing thoughts for today. Today started out with a poopie diaper. What's new? I think half my day is filled with poop. Poop that isn't mine. And this was a beautiful gift at sunrise from Monkey Man. Of course, we were out of diapers. The diaper box must be made of lead, because Clark Kent didn't know we were out either. So I dealt with poop only to be greeted by vomit. The half of my day that isn't filled with poop is filled with vomit. You are all jealous. Jealous of my day of bodily functions that don't belong to me. The special moment today was brought on by one of the dogs. What I want to know is why he'll re-eat it? Yeah, its gross. The dog won't eat broccoli. Or crackers, or soft tortillas. But that which he previously ate that he's decorated the floor with? Oh yeah. That's the good stuff.
My morning was only saved by Little Frog. Morning smiles. There is very little that an almost-two-month-old can do to cheer someone up after all that has came from the orifices of the varied living creatures in this house. But a smile that says "Oh yeah, I know you, you're mom" ... well, that just does it. It makes things all better. As better as pink milk.
Pink Milk is one of the "You're the best, Mom" drinks around here. It validates my craziness. Putting pink, crystallized, non-sugar junk into moo juice. It makes the world a better place. I'm pretty sure we could solve all world peace issues with Pink Milk. Someone call the President. I've got it figured out and no one knows. It cures what ails you, makes you smile, and cures world peace. I'm almost positive.
After morning smiles, Little Frog felt warm. So I had to take his temperature. Anyone with a newborn, or who has had a newborn, or a dog even, knows that this exercise is humiliating for all involved. There's no dignified way to take a newborn's temperature. Turn and cough. May as well. Its like that. And then he didn't have a fever. So the embarrassment on both our parts was all for nothing. But we're closer now. We've crossed that threshold of awkward moments. Chalk it up there to the great moments like the moment I walk into his bedroom to check on him before bed a little too early when he's twelve. Those types. Then I can say "Oh get over yourself. I shoved a thermometer up your butt once."
That's a Monday. They are like that. And Peanut has PE on Mondays. PE. Mondays. PE means wear sneakers. I can never remember that. Its Monday. Nothing important should ever happen on Mondays. Monday is a fancy word for "giant brain fart" day. Its the day that they are lucky I remember what's going on at all, much less get the kids to school. And then remembering sneakers? Forget it. Peanut has PE on Mondays. As I complained and whined about this my friend, who is a genius, by the way, suggested putting in my smartphone. This is why I have friends. To think for me. To have great ideas. Almost as great as Pink Milk. But PE can't possibly solve world peace. Sorry to let you down like that. It just won't. Pink Milk though ... there's something to it. Grab your towel, and a glass of pink milk. And don't forget your erasers for people.