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Cara LOVES yogurt.  Not just a little bit.  Cara loves yogurt like a junky loves his next fix.

She’s become just a tad bit independent in her old age and has started insisting that she feed herself the yogurt.  Since she was eating the adult Yoplait that I eat, the stuff would always end up more ON her than IN her and it would take like 30 minutes for her to eat that tiny container of sticky goodness.

I finally resorted to mixing the yogurt with milk and making a bastardized version of a smoothie.  [yogurt + milk + sippy cup + shake like hell = smoothie.]

Not my labor day, but Cara’s.

Actually, these are from yesterday but they’re new to you.

We had to go and get our infant carrier from Tucker’s parents’ house and Tucker decided to wash the SUV and vacuum it out since we have apparently acquired a family of ants.

Anyway, since Tucker doesn’t believe in child labor laws, he put poor Cara to work.

He should be ashamed of himself.

Our “baby plan” is that Oliver is going to stay in our room till he outgrows the bassinet part of our pack-n-play and then he’ll move into Cara’s room.  [Can't wait for that mayhem.]

Since Oliver won’t be using the crib for a while, we weren’t in any hurry to get any sort of crib bedding and had actually planned on just tossing on a crib sheet and calling it good.  But, when we see cheap, we just can’t pass it up.

Friday, glorious Friday!

Actually, I don’t have that unnatural love/devotion for Friday any longer since I stay at home with Cara.  Don’t get me wrong, Fridays are fine but it’s not like I get to leave “the office” for the weekend and come back on Monday.  I’m rambling now aren’t I?

Sorry.

It’s Fuck You Friday!  Yippee!

Now for the list:

I am awake.  I have been awake since 5 am.

Cara is awake.  Cara has been awake since 5 am.

Do you see a correlation here?

Not only did she wake up but I could here her bouncing in her crib and couldn’t help but hear the earsplitting screams.  [Cara, is the screaming REALLY necessary?!]

The most maddening part about the screaming is that it’s not a pissed off scream or a sad scream.  It’s just a damn loud scream to let me know that she’s ready to get up.

Vote St. Louis so that I’ll only have a 4.5 hour drive next year with my pissed off husband, pissed off toddler and pissed off infant.

Click here to vote!

Here are the voting results in order from lowest number of votes to highest:

Omaha - 26

Las Vegas - 52

San Fransisco Bay Area - 71

Southern California - 92

Seattle - 108

Atlanta - 159

Austin - 162

Denver - 166

New York - 187

St. Louis - 216

Portland - 279

Philly - 291

Cara and I went to Millington yesterday.

Apparently, I am incapable of being away from Tucker for longer than 24 hours.  Just to be 100% clear here, I’m not dependent upon his dumbass for my happiness but things are rather boring around here when he’s gone.

[Glad we're clear on that one cause I was starting to sound a bit pathetic.]

So, yeah, Millington.

Small, Southern, run-down, bitchy people.

The End.

Not really.

I had one of those crazy hormone induced pregnancy dreams last night.  This is new territory for me since I haven’t ever been one to have the three headed baby dreams or the dreams where I give birth to a cat or anything weird like that.

[The only "strange" dream I can remember from my pregnancy with Cara was one where I dreamed that she had amber colored eyes and was a she.  I was kind of right; Cara did end up being a girl but she had blue eyes, not amber.  I was close though...right?]