Friday, January 27, 2012

No, it doesn't.

If it doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger.

Uh, hold on a sec Kelly Clarkson. Are you sure? What if this thing that didn't kill you makes your life harder or just gives you the inability to do fun stuff? How the hell did that make you better off for it?

Let's say you really want to get a Big Mac because it's lunch time and you have nothing in the fridge that sounds good. You are all set to get in the van and head off to McDonald's but then you remember something important: there's a baby peacefully sleeping in the crib upstairs and you are the stay at home parent. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT! If you wake her, free time is over. If you let her sleep, say hello to the two week old lunch meat that looks grayer than grandma. There is no win-win for you here. You are screwed, not stronger.

The American Idol winner is wrong. I am convinced of it. Hopefully another musical artist will get it right next time. Let's check the next selection on Spotify for clarity.

What the f????

If anyone can tell me what in the hell are they saying, I would like to know. For now I have no time to figure this out; the precious gift from God upstairs just woke up. The one thing I do know is this: parenting a baby does not kill you or make you stronger; it makes your back hurt. A lot.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Over Cooked

I think I'm done.

The other day, Dana asked me if I was going to keep writing. She knew it had been a while since I last sat down and wrote anything so she asked the question. I guess it was a gut reaction to reply that I'm done writing. Truthfully, I didn't hesitate saying it. Words just don't pour out of me lately and perhaps that's a good thing.

It's 8 AM on a Friday morning so forgive me for not further analyzing my life. Our two month old, Katie, kept me awake last night from the stress of her furiously refusing to take a bottle. My mind is tired, my body is surprisingly sore, and I just wanted to sit down at the computer to figure out how to move this day along. I had a minor urge to write but I think I'm done now.

To be continued is a question for another morning.