I owe the blogging world an apology. I've been MIA. Have I been busy being a mom? Have I been busy trying to clean up during nap times? No, I've been documenting my children's poop. Forget baby books. I'm doing "Holy Sh*t Books" My children will look back at their 40,000 poop filled diaper pictures with fondness and nostalgia.
Yes, my husband receives poop pictures on his phone during important work meetings. It's my way of making sure he doesn't miss out on all the memories while he's funding my shopping habit.
Speaking of shopping, Josh and I have differing opinions of what the children need.
I am a realist.
I know that one day I will not be able to dress our children in whatever I choose because they will be strong, independent thinkers (translation: whiny, loud, tantrum throwing hooligans). That means I have to spend all our money on clothes that I can dress them in now before they can form their own opinions on how ridiculous they look. This is a solid investment and Josh thinks it's a waste of money.
We were at a baby naming a few weeks ago and one of the grandparents wished that the child would appreciate the gifts she got but even more importantly, the memories she makes over the years.
Josh looked pointedly at me.
I told him, "I recognize that stuff isn't that important and that memories are what really last. However, aren't memories better when they have stuff in them?"
So in order to fill our house with more stuff, I've been taking some much needed trips to my mecca-the mall. The germ nazis out there will say that I shouldn't bring my kids out in crowds before they're 2 months old but I'll have you know that I only let really good looking strangers lick my children. See? I know what I'm doing.