This is What Happens When Mommy's Misguided
Unwillingly channeling Martha
Stewart from her minimum-security jail cell while suffering sleep deprivation, you get this. I was feeling guilty for feeling tired cooking Number 2 and not playing enough with K, so I gave myself bad advice and threw a morning's energies into making his awful-looking bureau (it was his daddy's from his bachelor days and was three different shades of undiscernible wood - I think birch - the drawers of which were the only pieces properly stained) look like this.
Perhaps I should have just played with the boy, instead, but he actually seems to like it - he loves trying to pick off the alphabet while I try to change him on the floor. It's like roping a calf, people; you try it with a nine-month-old.
Stewart from her minimum-security jail cell while suffering sleep deprivation, you get this. I was feeling guilty for feeling tired cooking Number 2 and not playing enough with K, so I gave myself bad advice and threw a morning's energies into making his awful-looking bureau (it was his daddy's from his bachelor days and was three different shades of undiscernible wood - I think birch - the drawers of which were the only pieces properly stained) look like this.
Perhaps I should have just played with the boy, instead, but he actually seems to like it - he loves trying to pick off the alphabet while I try to change him on the floor. It's like roping a calf, people; you try it with a nine-month-old.
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