Category Archives: Infant Agony

Nighttime conversations

Screaming. ::rock back::rock forth::rock back:: rock forth:: Bottle in mouth. Bottle pushed out of mouth. Don’t you want your bottle? No. You do not want your bottle. ::rock back::rock forth::rock back:: rock forth:: Do you want to lay on my … Continue reading

Posted in Infant Agony, Oh, how I love him, The "mommy" in me | 1 Comment

From Dwight Schrute to Lloyd Christmas

See, I’m pretty behind here, constantly writing posts in my head that I know will eventually make it to this here interweb site, and so, bear with me, this happened weeks ago, though it’s still fresh in my mind as though … Continue reading

Posted in Infant Agony, Life's little milestones | 1 Comment

I’m having my tubes tied

Today is brought to you by the letters D and E and also the syllables feat and ed. That pretty much sums up my day friends, de-feat-ed. My child is the devil. I’ve officially realized it. Ever have one of … Continue reading

Posted in Infant Agony, The "mommy" in me, What the Eff? | 1 Comment

Dear Owen,

Someday, there will come a time when punching yourself reapeatedly in the crotch will  a.) no longer be acceptable and b) cause excrutiating harm to your manhood.  I just hope you stop this hilarious dangerous habit before you realize both of these … Continue reading

Posted in Boys do silly things, Infant Agony, Oh, how I love him | 1 Comment

And the mother of the year award goes to????

Certainly NOT me. After a long day of juggling work and Owen on Friday, we sat down for some quiet time on the couch.  What a big boy he is, he can now sit on the couch all by himself … Continue reading

Posted in Infant Agony, The "mommy" in me | 3 Comments

Lots of Tylenol and kisses…

We had our first “emergency” trip to the doctor this morning.  We got up, got dressed in our best “I haven’t slept in days” sweatshirt and jeans (sweatpants for Owen) and packed up for the germ-filled fiesta that is the … Continue reading

Posted in Bodily Functions, Infant Agony, The "mommy" in me | 1 Comment

I’m Mr. Icicle… I’m Mr. Ten Below

When it rains, it pours, folks… and my life is no different!  I woke up this morning barely able to see, I was so tired.  My eyes swollen, muscles sore.  Rewind to 5:30 last night.  High hopes for a re-run … Continue reading

Posted in Infant Agony, The poor house | Leave a comment