I've tried really hard NOT to blog about poop lately. But as it turns out, when I outlaw that subject, I really have nothing else to say.
For instance? Last week my car key broke. Like so:
Suck, right? Especially since I lost my extra set about a month ago? Anyway, last Wednesday I got all ambitious and decided to hit the locksmith with Sydney in tow to get a new key. I thought it would be a quick in-and-out job. Wrong, wrong, WRONG. Apparently I have a fancy-pants key that has some kind of anti-theft microchip blabbity-blah that costs ONE HUNDRED dollars to replace AND takes all kinds of computerific manipulation. WONDERFUL! Let's do all that in a hot parking lot (yes, the locksmith I chose was essentially a HUT in the parking lot of a pancake restaurant, don't you just LOVE LOS ANGELES? GET ME OUT OF HERE TO A PLACE WITH ACE HARDWARE FOR THE LOVE) and throw in a fussy baby for extra fun! WOO! An hour later I was loading Sydney into the car when I noticed her signature funk … you know the one. I debated about whether to try and change her in the seat of the car or open up the hatchback so I'd have a bigger working surface. I decided to use the seat, and when I lifted her out of the car seat UM OH MY STARS THE POOP. We quickly relocated to the trunk of my SUV and it was like an onion … the more layers I peeled off the worse it got. How does someone so small POOP SO MUCH?! Good thing I put her in a cute dress for once in her life and there was no protective pants barrier to help me out on this one! YIPEE! After I went through the majority of the baby wipes in a FULL container and totally soiled her blanket, I started to put her back into the car seat only to realize that that there was a huge puddle of poop IN THE SEAT. I spent the next 20 minutes taking apart and baby-wiping the entire thing and actually got excited when I saw that it hadn't gone all the way through to the car upholstery. SAD.
You'd better believe I took pictures. Because my daughter was just too giggly and PLEASED with herself to not need some sort of way to embarrass at her high school graduation party. Also? I haven't gotten around to thoroughly washing her car seat out because I am EVIL.
In other not-so-fascinating news, I finally broke down and got surgery done on my ingrown toenails. I'm sick of not being able to wear real shoes, and I really, really miss getting pedicures. I don't know what it is lately, people, but I'm getting fed up. My hair is AWFUL. I'm a slobby mess and totally in that crazy in-between sizes mode where my pants are all either too tight and sporting muffin top or too baggy and revealing lovely plumber's crack every time I bend over (and it doesn't help that the two sizes I'm in between are 12 and 14. My pre-pregnancy size-8 butt seems like a fairy tale to me now). Then there's the fact that I'm perpetually tired and covered in spit-up and generally grumpy because any free time I get goes to folding laundry. My milk supply is still depressingly low and Sydney needs at minimum a bottle formula a day (although yesterday? She had THREE). AND? (Oh yes, there's MORE)I woke up with a stye in my eye this morning. AWESOME. The moral of the story is that it would be nice to AT LEAST have cute feet, because when all else fails that was once the thing that I could turn to. NO MORE.
Hawt. The report is that in about a month my feet will be back to normal and I will never, ever get an ingrown toenail again for the rest of my life. I asked my podiatrist to sign that in blood and he gladly did. Unfortunately he did it WITH MINE. For now, I have sore, ugly, bleeding Q-tip toes that go nicely with my sweatpants.
And without a doubt Dr. Phil could do a hell of a number on me lately.