I took sweet Stella on a trip down town on Saturday so that the Chef could sleep in. It's more than a fair trade. I get uninterrupted nightime sleep as he deals with our STILL waking babe (who is, I might add, 24 months old now, WHAT THE HELL, child). And while we're on the subject of sleep, can we also mention that she regularly takes 40 minute naps and won't go to bed until like 9 PM, which is about the time that I like to be hitting the sack but a mountain of dishes and gah, I'm an old lady. And old lady with a child who needs about as much sleep as Martha Stewart.
Wait, what? How did I get here to Martha Stewart. I can't even cut paper in a straight line. I meant to tell you how I took my kid downtown for a haircut and it was murderfaceball, she was so not it to it. The hysterical crying and screaming and trying with the strength of a captured spy undergoing unspeakable torture, to escape my grasp. I'm not even exaggerating. She caused a rolling crescendo of hysterics as all the other babies looked at her and realized what horrors awaited them, and I have a new found respect for the people who make their living cutting baby hair. Anyway now she has a mullet because there was NO WAY that lady was getting near her with those nasty cutting implements ever again, even though it was MY CHILD'S OWN IDEA that she get a hair cut. Le sigh. Parenting.
Also, she dropped the F-bomb for the first time yesterday.
But whatever, the walk down town and the trip on the bus was lovely!