Thursday, June 09, 2005

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It's tough enough to take care of an infant when there are two healthy adults in the house, so you can imagine how much tougher it gets when one of the adults is sick. Bobbi has a head-cold. She used the humidifier last night to help her sleep better. It worked for her but since it's about as loud as a coal-fired generator... not so much for me. Call me sensitive, but I find it much easier to sleep when there isn't a leaf-blower in the room with me.

Since Bobbi is probably contagious, I have to do all the heavy lifting where the baby is concerned, meaning I have to lift the baby whenever she wants, which is quite often. Yesterday I took her to my parents house for the day. I'm trying to get her accustomed to sleeping there so that eventually we can dump the kids on my parents and run off to Tahiti for the weekend, or maybe just have sex without the constant buzz of the monitor beside the bed. After 16 months of monitor sex, I can no longer get a hard-on without white noise.

Being the great Father that I am, I arrived at my parents without Sam's blanket, security blanket (that's a separate blanket for those of you who don't have kids), pillow or pacifier. A quick run to Wal-Mart netted a new pacifier and blanket but not the same blanket that she is used to. Needless to say she started screaming the minute I put her down. So, I did what any loving parent would do, I turned my back on her and walked out. Thirty seconds later she was asleep.

When we returned from visiting my parents, Bobbi noticed that the baby had 7-11 feet. If there was ever a sign that you are a bad parent, it's 7-11 feet. My Mother keeps her house so clean you could perform surgery in the living room yet whenever the baby is around her she ends up with black feet. You might think that her feet got that way because I let her run barefoot through the Cracker Barrel at lunch but I'm telling you it's my Mom's fault.

Watching The Wiggles yesterday, Bobbi and I decided that the blue Wiggle is our favorite because he is the gayest. The only thing more sad than being the gayest Wiggle is being the two people who's lives have been reduced to sitting around deciding which Wiggle is gayest. There is one song the Wiggles sing about four flowers and they have dancers dressed up as the flowers and I swear the yellow flower is way to excited to be a flower. The guy looks ridiculously happy, like being a yellow flower on The Wiggles is the realization of a dream. "Mom! I know that you said I'd never make it in show business but I'm the Yellow Flower on The Wiggles so suck it!"


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