Miss Thang is proving herself to be rather high-maintenance. I fluctuate, minute-by-minute, from thinking I am completely inept and failing completely as a mother to thinking that absolutely no one else could possibly care for my child the way that I do.
The other day I finally took a small break to run to Vitamin Cottage. I don’t get out of the house every day, so even those small errands feel like a delicious treat. I cranked up the local hip-hop station and found myself singing, “‘cause I’m a mother fuckin’ P-I-M-P” along with 50 Cent.
Then I took a little pause to eat a bite of an organic hippie fruit snack that I bought at Vitamin Cottage as I cruised along in my little fuel efficient sedan and glanced at my breast milk spit up stained t-shirt. I then had to concede that I am not, in fact, a mother fuckin’ P-I-M-P these days. In fact, I’m pretty much the opposite of that.
I think the Girl Scouts should (may already have, given how many showed up at our door this year) buy lists of addresses of recent patients from the hospitals so that they can go prey upon new moms. I cannot resist a) cookies b) cute little girls. I bought a shit ton of mediocre but highly nostalgic boxes of refined sugar this year.
What organization peddles large chunks of dark chocolate? If you come to my house with such a thing, I will convert to your religion. Just saying.
But even if I never got to taste chocolate again, she'd make life worth it. Lord, but tell me that face does not melt your heart.
