– I need to stop threatening to eat my baby, no matter how chubby and delicious his legs look.

– I wonder if all almost-four-month-olds know how to make THE WORST NOISE IN THE WORLD. Baby Evan has started screeching like he’s being strangled and he has to make sure ALL the neighbors know it. I’m expecting the police to show up any minute.

– Oh God, is it teething? Is it going to keep happening? I’d better Google “how long does teething last?”

– The baby loves the dog more than he loves me. A LOT more.

– There is no one in the world I like hate enough to ask to babysit a child who can’t be more than 10 minutes away from my boobs, so I guess I’ve got a couple more months before we get a parents night out.

– I hereby declare this week “Take-out week” since I refuse to turn on the stove at 85+ degrees.

– Taking care of a screaming child uses up an entire days worth of patience. Telemarketers and ATT tech support beware.

– Jumping and splashing in the river like a couple of 15-year olds is better than marriage counseling.

– After watching that “news” story about cankles on tv this morning, I think a) America is totally screwed up and b) I finally found a body part that I can be totally happy about. No cankles here!

– Since when can my tiny baby boy stand up!? You can’t even roll over, where do you think you’re going??
p.s. My in-laws gave us that onesie. Isn’t it hilarious? Now he looks even more delicious.

Friday was the opposite of fun. It was the anti-fun. It was like fun packed up all his bags and left the country with a suitcase full of simple and easy. It was just one lousy thing after another all culminating in the moment when I walked out of the pharmacy and discovered my car had crapped itself and wouldn’t start. So I’m standing in the 85 degree sun holding a crying baby staring at a car that won’t start and has the “check gauges”, “no oil pressure”, and “urgent problem” lights on…and E is unreachable. His work phone goes to voicemail. His cell phone goes to voicemail. My texts go unanswered. I don’t have the number to his office building.

After trying to feed Baby Evan in the steaming, boiling hot car (WAAAAAH WAAH WAAAAAAAAAH!!!!) and opening the hood and staring blankly at the engine I just pack up the stroller and the baby and head down to the Commissary hoping to find…I don’t know what. Help? A tow truck? Santa Claus? Anything was going to be better than sitting there. Luckily E got out of his meeting and called me back and after we BOTH opened the hood and stared blankly at the engine for a few minutes we finally called a repair place. The repair guy suggested that before we pay for a tow and a checkup we just try jump starting it. Ok but we don’t think it’s the battery, I mean, the radio works and this oil gauge looks pretty serious. Guess what, it worked. Our real problem is that I know NOTHING about cars and E knows just enough to imagine thousands of dollars in repair and hopelessness instead of a $50 battery, so we both freaked out for two hours and exhausted ourselves.

Today was better, although my spray on sunscreen failed to reach my back and now I can’t lean back without wincing in pain. But I have my aloe gel and some Netflix and no plans for the rainy Sunday we’re expecting tomorrow so I’ll be ok. Maybe Baby Evan will decide to sleep all afternoon instead of scream. I can wish.

Next time you’re invited to a baby shower, bring the mommy-to-be the most useful, affordable, never-knew-they-needed-it gift: WD-40. Just tape a bow to the top. Trust me, they’ll thank you eventually.

They’ll thank you when that glider they use to rock their screaming baby to sleep starts to squeak and every squeak is another five minutes of lost sleep.

They’ll thank you while they WD-40 every hinge on every door of every room. It’s much easier to put on clothes when you’re not afraid to open the closet door for fear the CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEK will wake the baby.

They’ll thank you because ever single piece of baby equipment is “collapsible” – as if a three foot bright orange high chair is less noticeable standing on two legs instead of four – and collapsing them is much easier when the hinges work.

They’ll thank you if they were given any hand me down baby gear, since no matter how clean the previous owner thought they kept it, anything that’s supposed to slide or swing is stuck because it’s full of a residue made up of goldfish crumbs, apple juice and poop.

And they will really thank you when they realize they ALREADY HAVE A CAN OF WD-40 instead of having to pack up the baby, the car seat, the stroller, and restock the diaper bag just to go spend $4 at Home Depot before they can do any of the above.

Who knew that the most effective, most entertaining baby toy you could buy was one poorly trained mutt?

Today we looked at mansions. We ran into the owner of my favorite one (the green one) who I once bought a bunch of antique furniture from so I know slightly. She was like “Oh my God you had a baby! When did that happen?” And then she gave me the new mommy once-over. It’s like a very fast stink-eye that judges you on your remaining baby fat, general pastiness and whether or not your hair is washed (guess what, it’s not). I don’t think I did very well but luckily you get extra points for the cuteness of the baby and mine flirted his chubby butt off.