Yea. Last night wasn't good.
Trying to break your kid of what you think are habits totally sucks. Let's just put it that way.
Tomorrow is the husband's birthday. And you better bet your butt I'll write about him in some fashion tomorrow. I haven't yet figured out if it's going to be all mushy-like...or what. But, something. There will be something. He's too good of a guy/husband/dad to not get an awesome birthday-blog-acknowledgement.
I've been staring at a pile of paperwork on my kitchen island since prior to Christmas. I told myself that I'd give myself a little Christmas break. You know? Get back to it after the Holidays. Ummzzz yea. About that. Still totally there. I will get to it, I swear. [For the record, its not bills and such, all our bills are paid online and thankthelord the amazing husband does all that stuff.]
Yesterday, Emeline and I were running a few errands. We happened to be at Babies-R-Us, cruising the clearance shoe aisle. I have such issues finding shoes I like for her and that stay on. [and sohelpmeGod if anyone tells me to buy Robeez for the umpteenth time I may just die. Am I the only one on the planet that doesn't think they're that cute? The boots are the one thing I kindof like. I digress...]
She apparently was LOVING the shoe section (what a girl)....because, I saw some flailing hand motions going on and looked in the stroller...and GIRL WAS CLAPPING. I mean, you know, baby clapping. Baby clapping is basically when they at least attempt to put their two hands together, making NO noise whatsoever (and sometimes missing the other target-hand, but who cares! she's clapping!), but making their moms all sorts of weepy, because, milestones! another milestone!
And yes, I whipped out my phone and started recording her first unprovoked attempt at clapping in the aisles of BRU because, dude--memories. And? We *had* to show her daddy.
At the suggestion of a few of you lovely peeps, I may have also bought some of those ugly bibs with the food catcher thingy at the bottom.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.