It's time for another random list of things that plague my mind.....
Mexican food and two-year-olds don't mix.
Not only does David go nuts and try to cram chips into the salsa bowl faster than a chubby kid eating cheetos, he only likes one thing.
He loves loves loves the marinated chicken that goes inside all the items that call for it. I've finally learned to just order him some on the side instead of participating in the tortilla frisbee Olympics.
The only problem is, this type of chicken causes my son to have more gas than the Hindenburg.
The rest of the day the poor kid sounded like I shoved bubble wrap up his ass.
Now that I've fully entered the toddler wars I've decided who I want to be my general.
My friend Jessica is amazing. Not only did this woman manage to wade through JoAnn's fabrics with me on a day when it was more crowded than Pamela Anderson's bra cups, she did so with two toddlers in tow.
Imagine David times two.
Yep, she is super woman. Not once did she have to raise her voice, threaten bodily harm or drag them out of the store. Instead, she showed me what type of mom I would like to be - especially in public.
Daddy adoration is cute at first when you have a toddler. But when that adoration turns into "cant-sleep-unless-I'm -snuggling-with-daddy-in-mommy-and-daddy's-bed" it becomes more annoying than Jessica Simpson.
The past few nights David has been unable to go to sleep unless he is snuggled up on his daddy. Unfortunatly, this means mommy has been banished to a tiny sliver of bed, that my my pinkie toe barely fits on, much less my ginormous tush.
I woke up this morning unable to feel my arms (since I was sleeping on them) and needing to pee like a racehorse whose weiner's been taped to his leg.
I swear my husband must have thought I was having a seizure as I sat there trying to get my pants off to do my business.