4am Selfie Skills = meh. I tried? Participation trophy. 🏆
4am Tuck A Giant Tiny Baby By The Boob And Get Him To Fall The Eff Asleep And Leave His Mamas Alone For 5 Freaking Minutes = ON POINT. Way better than I ever was with the human babies. 💣
Um…I mentioned it’s a Shit Show here, yes? Well, far be it from me to make an accusation without providing evidence. I present Exhibit A: Quasar, CAKED in poo, lying blissfully NEXT to the litter box, trying to wipe his own butt, but smearing it everywhere. Every. Where. He is All Toddlers, bright eyed, cheery voiced, “Look, Mama, I pooped and I cleaned it up all my byself!” And Quantum, Leap, and I are All Mommies, 😱🤦🏻♀️🙄🤷🏻♀️, gently, WEARILY, “Oh…good job, sweetheart. Next time, maybe tell Mommy so I can help you, OK?” And Quasar is all, “I SAID ALL MY BYSELF!”
Sweet baby Jesus on a pogo stick, help us now.
In other news, all twelve kittens got baths this morning. Because BARF. And now they smell like Dawn dish soap. It is INFINITELY better. Even the mommy cats were like, “THANK YOU, HUMAN. WE WILL GLADLY TAKE THIS GROSS HUMAN SOAP SMELL OVER POOPY BABIES.”
Yes, they poop their pants, but OMG THESE FACES. Radia and Qubit aren’t just lookalike sisters (and clones of their gorgeous mama), they’re also the sweetest babies. Calm, gentle, charming snugglers. They slay me.
Half of my kitchen table task—sorting wedding crap—is done. And yes, that was supposed to be 100% done days ago, but half is WAY more than zero, so I’m counting it as a win. The trick, friends, is to lower your standards. Like, subterranean level. Then, accomplishing ANYTHING gets an “exceeds expectations” mark on the report card. This is why I write. BECAUSE I AM SO INSPIRATIONAL. Rachel Hollis can keep Girl, Wash Your Face. I have Lady, Lower Your Standards. It is the path to happiness. I am telling you.
ALSO, inspired by Quency, I tackled my MOB (mother of the bride) makeup look today. In the After Times, makeup went the way off the dodo bird. Extinct. Kaput. A relic of a distant time. But then Quency and his eyeballs came along, and I remembered *I* have eyeballs, and I thought I ought to decorate them prior to the wedding day to see if I can actually stand wearing eye makeup for the many hours of the event. I am so far out of practice, it’s anyone’s guess, really. Even odds. The After Times also means grey hair grow out, and I will admit, while I don’t worship at the altar of youth (I EARNED EVERY WRINKLE, DAMN IT—I WILL WEAR THEM LIKE GOLD STARS), it was an adjustment to welcome all the grey. An adjustment that was worth it, TBH, like all journeys toward authenticity are in the end. The path there may be wonky. There may be bizarre twists and turns. But at the end, when you find yourself? THAT right there is treasure.
Anyhoo, this was my wedding project for today, and I like how it turned out so I’m showing you. Also, I’m pathologically incapable of taking selfies without making ridiculous faces at myself. 🤷🏻♀️ It’s who I am.
Little Miss Lune photo bombed the Q twins but since she showed us her starting-to-open eyeballs, we shall forgive her social faux paw.
(Heh heh. See what I did there? Social faux PAW? 🙄)
(That is a joke Greg would tell. And then he would laugh like it’s hilarious. The facts that a) I wrote that and am letting it stand and b) am amused by it prove I have been married to Greg entirely too many years. HEED THIS WARNING, SINGLE PEOPLE. Marriage will change you.)