kdiddy.org

Oh, I don’t have much time to chat here, but I think it would be a blogging crime of the highest order if I did not mark the significance of this date.

See this guy? You all know him as The Baby. Well, he turns 7 years old today. Can you believe that shit?

It’s hard for me to do comparison pictures since 2001 was quite a few years before we leapt into the 21st century and got a digital camera. I scanned a few pictures some time ago but never really dove into that project. So his baby pictures aren’t readily available to the online public. I mostly show this one, which is one of my favorite pictures ever, even though it’s more a picture of my armpit cleavage than anything else:

The baby wanted to look at his baby pictures the other night so we lugged the photo album out. He marveled at the size of my pregnant belly and couldn’t help but coo over how cute he was as a brand new kid. He also asked me, “Why did you look like that?”

See, I had an emergency c-section and it really wiped me out. I was completely dopey for the first few hours after the baby was born. There aren’t many pictures of me in that state and of course none are online but I can recreate it for you:

Later.

Sometimes I think me and my family are being directed by some omnipotent force with a seriously sick sense of humor. God? I don’t know. Maybe if god is a drunken Woody Allen, then his direction for last night’s comedy of errors would be something like this:

Okay, Greedo (cat). You haven’t knocked anything off of any surface in months. Now stare deviously at the cactus on the mantle in the baby’s room. Lick your lips and jump onto the mantle. Tiptoe to the cactus. Now touch…touch…push! Now hide! They’re going to be pissed!

Kelly, grab Greedo, call him an asshole and give him to the husband, then carefully pick up the cactus with an oven mitt.

Cactus, stare up at Kelly with a “What did I do?” look. Great!

Husband, start your futile attempts to re-pot the cactus with the dry-ass soil. Wiggle the cactus to see if it will stay put. Once it starts to fall, grab it with your bare hand! Perfect! Now swear! Keep swearing! Tell the cat you’re going to kill him. Amazing. This is great stuff, guys.

Enter neighbors across the street! Alright, 3-year-old daughter, start screaming and crying! Keep going! Parents! Don’t make any attempts to comfort her. Repeat this process for the next two hours.

Okay, now we’re at the bar. Kelly, order a gimlet and some potstickers. Order another gimlet. Burn the roof of your mouth on the potstickers. Order another gimlet….aaaaaand one more. Great! Talk to Jwan about some stuff. Talk to Karen about vegetables. Show Maria your iPhone and then slur to her about graduate school.

Alright, let’s go home. Husband, curl up next to Kelly and attempt to make some moves. Kelly, be waaaaayyy too tired and breathe vodka breath into the husband’s face.

Oh, it’s 4:50 a.m.! Kelly, it’s time for your sneezing attack. And the baby, it’s time for you to get up and need some help turning the light on in the bathroom. Yeah, you guys do this every night. You know the drill.

Kelly, it’s 6 a.m. Your alarm is going off. Press the snooze button. Repeat this action 15 times. Alright, now it’s 7:15 and you really need to get out of bed. Note that your hangover seems to reside solely in your knees. Check the weather on your phone and wonder why you were reading the Wikipedia page for William F. Buckley, Jr.

Talking Head: That was a really exciting race! Did you expect to pull out front so early?

Runner: *pant pant* Um *pant* I muh puh haaa *pant pant*

TH: And how glad are you that you made it into the final?

R: *pant* Well, musperseeeehhhh geh PU-CHOW! *pant pant pant*

TH: Uh-huh. Now, of course, you know this is the Olympics. Are you surprised that you didn’t perform better?

R: *pant pant pant* Hehe. Uhhhmmm…(something that may or may not be “go fuck yourself.”)

TH: Alright! Thank you. And good luck!

R: Ugh.

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