Through Shits and Giggles…

It’s been five weeks since Caroline came into the world, and holy hell I am running on empty. I love our family, and the fact that this little bear is starting to become more alert and far less dull, but with the alertness comes less time to get much done. And when she is sleeping, it’s in my arms. And only my arms.

With Layla, she was a very relaxed baby. She could stay awake and hang out in her swing, or in her Bobby on the couch and just look around, enjoy the chaos surrounding her. Caroline? You set her down, whether she is awake or in the deepest sleep, and within minutes she is screaming. Not just whining. Blood curdling screams.

I see this face most evenings.

I see this face most evenings.

Due to this inconvenience, my house is a wreck, I wear sweats on a daily basis, and the most make-up I have worn since she was born was on my 21st birthday and the day I went to get my new driver’s license (because who wants to look like a caveman in a picture you have to carry around for EIGHT years? Not me.)

Also, whose bright idea was it to have a baby twenty eight days before my 21st? I blame wine. Stupid, delicious wine. As much as I love Caroline, and I am glad for the age difference between my kids, I also wish I would have punched myself in the uterus instead of crying to have another baby that night. I just didn’t think it through. I failed to think of the financial burden, the fact that I wasted many long hours working on an ADORABLE bridesmaid dress for Sara’s wedding, and my 21st.

I had a five year old like tantrum on my birthday. It may have been the margarita’s or the fact that I am the only person out of my class to have two kids and a husband, but I whined and bitched at my poor reproductive planning skills and decided to go drink some Sunshine in My Panties, whatever the hell that is. I would also like to point out that my first legal drink in a bar was very far from the truth. It was not sunshine in my panties, seeing as I just had a baby. It was more like WWIII.

But after all of this meltdown, I am so glad for my husband. Alex has been so supportive, through my fits and my very bitchy remarks. Through long nights with Caroline, and early mornings with Layla. We’ve all just put a grin on our faces and thanked God for the family we do have.


Layla and Caroline being damn adorable.

Alex recently told me he hates how much bad luck we seem to run into. But I’ve started to look at it like this: we have a roof over our heads, he has a great job, and we have learned who are our real friends in life. All of this came from bad luck.

So is it really bad luck, or God telling us whatever path we were wanting to take isn’t right for us? I like to think it’s the latter of the two, and I’ll drink to that any day. I’ve made a lot of stupid choices in my life, and they’ve all led me to the life I now lead, so I love every stupid decision I have made. Because I have a two year old that loves me, a husband that refers to me as Slut Nugget, and an infant that’s little smile melts my heart.

Being a parent is really just losing a sense of humility. I used to be ashamed of not being perfect, and I yearned to be that perfect parent. Then life hit me, and I realized it doesn’t matter what others think of how you raise your children, or the fact that you have debts. What matters is that you take care of your kids and set your own dignity aside if necessary. God created Adam and Eve without humility, and only when Eve took a bite of that stupid apple did they become ashamed of their nudity. Not to say I am going to start tramping around butt ass naked, but I just don’t see a point in being ashamed of anything. Being humble, sure, but that’s a whole different story.

As for me, I’m just a sarcastic little ass hole :)


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