|Oh yeah baby…livin’ the dream.|
Desperate to escape the Coughing Twins in Stereo, I hefted the baby off my bed and urged her sister to play with her. Izzy instead ran shrieking into the hallway and began violently rattling the baby gate while I closed my eyes in vain.
“Not for Sophie! Mm-mmmm,” I warned, looking around in annoyance to discover my husband had escaped to the bathroom. Clang! Clang! The gate shook. Whhhhhhooooooooo-eeeeeeeeeee, boomed the didgeridoo! Thunk! went Sophie’s head against the side of the bed and she began to sob.
|Future hip hop recording artist|
As we sat down at the dining room table to enjoy our food, Izzy coughed loudly and rudely over our plates. The baby clawed at my legs crying, snot bubbling out of her nose as I raised my fork to my lips. I commented wryly to my husband, “This is a Livin’ the Dream kind of morning.” To further drive home the point, my six year old daughter began to spontaneously rap, “Yeah baby I’m-a livin’ the dream. Never lookin’ back, I’m-a livin’ the dream.”
As huge gusts of wind descended upon us seemingly out of nowhere, we noticed that we were being stalked by a persistent, hungry peacock. Izzy flipped her shit. Scaling the table in terror she attempted to climb onto my husband’s head like a spider monkey, screeching in horror. As is the norm for me, I began to giggle nervously while trying to remain authoritative.
“Let’s just go,” my husband said, disheartened. Uncertain as to whether he meant leave the zoo or leave the table, I was determined to salvage our outing. “Pack up the food,” I ordered him, as he attempted to frighten the stupid bird away with the stroller. “Izzy, get on my back,” I directed my blubbering child. We fled the scene like refugees, Shawn hastily pushing the stroller through the squall and carrying the backpack while I careened down the path with my daughter on my back and a water bottle in my hand.
At that moment, my baby let forth a tremendous sneeze, unleashing an unsavory river of snot onto her lip. Knowing that snot is really not my husband’s thing (everyone gets one pass-mine is loose teeth) I leaned over, my six year old perched precariously on my back, fished the wad of community TP out of my pocket with one hand and confiscated the monstrosity of mucous in one mighty swipe. I was Supermom. Livin’ the Dream indeed.
|Every outing is an adventure|
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