Diaper rash: Big J has terrible burny red diaper rash. He cries and cries when his diaper is dirty. Which happened at 4:30 this morning.
It's terrible knowing he's in such pain. He clutches your arm with his chubby little hands, looks in your eyes beseechingly, and wails, tears pouring. He doesn't stop sobbing until you've slathered on the Butt Paste.
Nick took him for a walk all bare-assed this morning, in hopes that air would help. To be clear - Jordan was bare-assed. Nick had shorts on.
4:30 am: Who, I ask you, shits at 4:30 am?
Morning walks-around-the-block: J has his wake-up bottle, and then you pick him up in your arms and head out the door. He's getting too heavy for me to carry for very long, though.
Of course I want him to grow up, and yet I want him to stay little. I love my little snuggly boy.
My hair: Here's the thing. The platinum is fabulous for a couple weeks. And then the roots come in, and they bug. I've made an appointment for Friday. I'm going to get it cut shorty-short.
Unless I chicken out.
J's hair: Jordan is currently heading towards a baby-fine mullet. Nick wants to chop the back. I didn't think I'd be all, nooo! My baby! Don't touch his hair!
But I seem to be.
Vengeance: Remember duplicity? I think I'm more vengeful than I'd like. When I can't fall back asleep (see above - 4:30 am), I plot.
Zen, I am not.