Since this blog sat on my to do list for a while as I was busy living this life and journey, I’ve started out writing about the past. Most of it is pretty ugly. Breast Cancer isn’t really very funny. Parenthood, however, I will admit can be really really funny. And I do try to laugh at myself as often as possible. When you combine That Girl, That Guy, and My Girls, you get a pretty Wacky life. When I was a child, probably when I was learning to read, one of my favorite books was “Wacky Wednesday” by Dr. Seuss. Since we constantly talk about how wacky my oldest is, my Wednesday posts will be sharing what I think are pretty Wacky stories, quotes, and silliness from our lives. Enjoy!
That Family had a busy evening recently. One of those nights when, after a busy day with work, doctor appointments, errands, school, and swim lessons, My Girls and I run in the door as That Guy is running out. With baths out of the way before he left, I only had dinner and bedtime before I could eat dinner myself and get some things done.
First order of business was to get That Baby’s dinner prepared. I started to feed her and That Little Girl was ready to eat at that point. I asked That Little Girl to try to feed That Baby while I finished up her dinner. It was actually going really well, but it only took a few minutes to finish up and I was taking back over the rest of That LIttle Girl’s dinner. That Baby was eating the puree of the night, Sweet Potato if I remember correctly. That Little Girl ate her dinner and came back and asked to help again.
I thought I had it pretty good and had solved the world’s problem. At a minimum I had made a huge advance in solving the problem’s of That Family. The older sibling feeding the baby. I might actually get to eat dinner myself before nine o’clock! Nice! I am Super Mom! Take that all my friends who have it all together! Everybody is eating. Everybody is happy. Everybody is squeaky clean after bath. Life is good.
That Little Girl is sitting on my lap as she gives That Baby another spoonful.
Swing batter.
That Baby swatted the spoon and sweet potato went all over her face. And high chair including the tray. All the better to quickly stick her fingers in and smear in her hair. No biggie. We wash.
And then, I hear a soft whisper. “Damn.”
“Um, excuse me?”
Again in a soft exasperated whisper, “Damn damn? What?”
Well, points for using it correctly I thought to myself.
“That’s a bad grown up word.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Well now you do. Don’t use it again.”
That was the end of that. So far anyway! And now you know, I still don’t have it all together. Now to wash out my own mouth with soap I suppose.
All About My Girls 
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