The time has come, readers, where I have peaked as a mom.
Yesterday I tried to run to the grocery store for some ground turkey for dinner real quick before I put Lucas down for a nap. So I strap him into his car seat without his pacifier which is the recipe for a screaming match every time except when the stars align to give me the middle finger. I pull into the grocery store and open the car door to this:
Wouldn’t you know? The only time that my wolf-in-a-sheep’s-costume decides to peacefully, quietly, fall asleep on his own. So I leave him sleeping and do what every mom in her right mind would do: I pop his car seat into a cart, haul it into the store, and come out with ground turkey and a 6 pack of my favorite beer. I pulled into my garage, opened the car door, pulled up a lawn chair, cracked a beer open, and tailgated the afternoon nap. I would like to think that my drinking a beer in the garage alone while the school bus drove by classed up the neighborhood a little bit. You’re welcome.
In case I was still questioning if that was my new low or not, this afternoon I was graced with the pleasure of using the phrase “please take your penis off of the window” when Lucas decided to wiggle his way out of a diaper change and bang his bottle against the sliding glass window at the boy who was in our backyard to blow the water out of the sprinkler system. True story. The dog was barking, Lucas was showing it all off and squealing, and I just sighed and sat on the couch and let it all happen. I have 17 years left of picking my battles with this little man, and letting him go all Magic Mike in my family room just doesn’t seem worth the effort today. So, instead I just asked my son to remove his penis from the window because I didn’t feel like taking the Windex out to clean off a teeny, tiny print.
Mom’s, raise your coffee mug with me and say: There’s a chance this is vodka!