Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been 22 years since my last confession. Oh woops! I thought this was my sinning blog. I like to keep a blog of my sins, then confess them to the Internet. It's less creepy than a priest.
Anyhow, Dexter Jean-Claude Macky is no longer a tiny little baby. He is nearly a year a half (or will be in about 2 months) and he is running around like a lunatic. It is the cutest thing ever to see him walking, with his hands in the air, and his center of gravity high on LSD. It looks hilarious. I always say this but honestly, his cute levels are through the roof. Except for yesterday morning. I went into his bedroom at a little after 7am, because I could hear him whining to get up. I go into the room, smile and say good morning, but something isn't right. What's that smell? Has there been another garbage strike? Did someone just do an egg salad burp? Have we been bombed with Agent Orange? Nope, Dex has done a colossal turd and it is everywhere. He slept in just a onesie because it was ridiculously hot. The poop had seeped out of his diaper, on to his legs, into his hand, and all over his face and his crib. It was a goddamn Poo-nami. It was Poomaggedon. Just as I realize what's happened I see him go to put some in his mouth. "NOOOOOOOOO!" I yell as I dive in slo-mo, "It's not a shit biscuit!" He tastes it and, quite obviously, starts spitting and makes the most hilarious/disgusted face of all time. He ate his own shit. I figure it's a tough lesson to learn but I'm glad he learned it early. You don't want to be learning that lesson your second year of University or anything.
Anyhow, I had to get Will in for backup because I couldn't handle the mountain of turd that surrounded me.
In other news, we went to NYC for the long weekend, which was the best. It was the longest we had left the baby, and let me tell you, it was awesome. I felt anxious before we left, because I knew I would miss him and would he be ok, and all of that. But then, when Will and I are sipping cocktails at 2:30 in the afternoon at some cool bar we're not cool enough to be at, any and all anxiety I had went out the door. Here's the thing. Getting away from work is THE BEST. Waking up when you want to, not answering emails, not dealing with your weird co-workers; it's all well deserved. When you have a toddler, that feeling of freedom is times 10,000. Don't get me wrong, I was happy to see him when the weekend was done, but I didn't pine for him, let me just put it that way. If you're a Mom and you don't think you can be away from your kid for more than a night or whatever, I'm here to tell you that you can, and you'll love it. Although I don't know too many Moms who seem to have a problem with that.
We saw Joey Fatone in New York, I know you're jealous. Will thought it was Lance Bass and when we walked by him said, "HA! It's Lance Bass." Hilarious.
I'm sweating my armpits off right now so I have to go. Until next time.
