• We went gift shopping this morning and about 10 seconds after we left the store I looked down to find that Button, while in her stroller, had managed to apply the 5-finger-discount to a pack of AA batteries. The sad part is, while we were returning the batteries to the store owner I was thinking, “I could have used those batteries.”
• I need a new camera. I need a new camera that won’t freeze at the most inconvenient moments, forcing me to forgo the photos completely to take the batteries out and reboot it. I need a camera that will take a friggin’ picture when I tell it to, rather than politely declining my request with the suggestion that we discuss it over coffee. And I need a camera that has SOME SEMBLANCE OF A CLUE about white balance and color accuracy. I need this camera.
• Unfortunately, one of the downsides about working part time is the complete and total lack of savable monies for things like Christmas presents and aforementioned camera necessities.
• Perhaps I should just send my daughter into the camera store and see what she comes out with.
• Button woke up from her nap today exceedingly displeased. As soon as I entered her room, I could see smell why. During her lunch, she had consumed 3 drink boxes of juice and a hearty amount of food - all of which had made its way through her during the nap. The clothes, the sheets, the changing table cover - all of it went straight into the wash.
  

  J:    You should probably put some bleach in there too to kill any of the germs.
  Me: I used Spray’N'Wash.
  J:    I doubt Spray’N'Wash kills germs.
  Me: Are you kidding? Have you ever smelled Spray’N'Wash?
  J:    …Good point. That stuff could probably kill a small animal.

What is it about fatherhood that transforms a man from a normal human being into a compulsive, shameless, lethal pun machine?

It must be genetic, as it seems to be passed down from generation to generation - a disease that lies dormant until offspring have been sprung, then rears its ugly head to the detriment of those within earshot.

Case in point:

“I need bins. We have all this stuff just thrown in the closet. I need bins to put it in.”

“Well, you can’t get too many.”

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t be patriotic.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, if we have too many bins, then that makes us bin laden.”

(blink, blink)

“I’m trying to be better about actually finishing the bottles of water I open, so if you see any of my half-drunk bottles laying around, let me know.”

“Your mom’s half-drunk and laying around.”

Ha.  Five years of marriage and I’ve still got it.

We have this great system at our house.  I take the night shift, which includes an average of 3 times per night of getting out of bed and putting Button back to sleep.  But at 6:00am (techically 5:45am) J’s shift starts and he has to get out of bed with her when she starts the day, and I get to sleep in … “sleep in” being a relative term depending on whether or not I have to go to work that day.

Every morning J gets up, changes her diaper and pulls off her jammies, and takes her downstairs.  And approximately 5 minutes later, she lets go of an enormous, messy, smell poo which requires much cleaning and wiping and supression of the gag reflex.

Two nights ago, as I was bringing her upstairs to go to bed, he hollered after her, “Button, there will be NO POOPING in the morning!”

The next morning, he walked in her room and reached into the crib to pull her out.  She chose that moment to throw up WITH SUCH FORCE YOU’D THINK A COKE CAN EXPLODED IN HER STOMACH.  In the crib, on the bumper, on the floor, on him.  So the clothing and sheets had to be changed and washed, the bumper stripped and washed, the carpet soaked and scrubbed, the baby bathed…
BUT SHE DID NOT POOP THAT MORNING.

“If we have to choose between the two…I think we should do the painting, it would make the house look a lot nicer.  It needs to be painted.  And it would make the bigger difference.”

“Ok.”

“Ok?  But you said you would rather do the flooring.”

(Shrug)

“But I was going to fight you for it.”

“If you want to do the painting, we can do the painting instead.  I don’t really feel like fighting about it.”

“…Oh.  Well, we could do the flooring if you want to.”