Trouble

Oh my goodness is this girl trouble. We call her our personal minion because we can't understand much of what she says but she talks ALL the time. She has full conversations with me in which I make out just one or two words, but she leaves satisfied that I learned a lot. I like it when she surprises me with cuteness, like coming in on a Sunday morning with her puppy dog purse and a book to read. She decided the toilet was the best place to catch up while Mom got ready for Sunday school (she may never be potty trained).

I am worried that her inquisitive nature is going to be her demise. Already this week we have a face plant that is causing quite a stir from onlookers. While at Chick-fil-a, one of these Texas Moms (that's my endearing term for the southerners that grew up with Mamas that raised them right...always perfectly dressed, matching shoes, hair never out of place and make-up so perfect you might mistake it for a mask and sugar coating sweetness to any cutting remark type of talk) kindly asked if Millie's nose was bleeding. Sadly, I was in my standard mom attire...smelly workout clothes because I did work out but 1. refuse to waste any mother's day out time pampering myself with a silent shower (I save the pampering for haircuts and doctor's appointments) and 2. know the risk of leaving the kids awake in the house while I spend 15 minutes taking a shower is too great for fear of the mess I would be forced to recover from...showers are reserved for early morning/late evening while Matt is home or when Millie is strapped inside her high chair or asleep. Unfortunately, she has figured out how to climb out of her high chair and crib so I'm really limited if she is not distracted by the paci for bed or PBS for the highchair...I digress.

Not only was I in sweat laden unflattering spandex, but my unwashed pink hair was pulled in a ponytail and of course, no make-up. Millie was barefoot, per usual, with black bottom feet, breakfast deposits all over her shirt, ranch dressing remains around her mouth (she drinks the free ranch instead of eating the nuggets), hair in a mop around her head because she didn't like the bow in her hair (it comes out as soon as the car door shuts and the shoes are off...see picture for example of hair mop)

and a Hitler-ish scab under her nose that was hanging on by a thread but she didn't want me to touch from her concrete walkway incident. I replied, "No, just a boo-boo" and that's when I received THE LOOK...the look that makes me feel about 2 inches tall and totally unfit to be a mother. That's when I wonder how these Texas Moms do it. Do they take a class on perfection? Do they have kids like mine? And if so, how in the world do they not have 10,000 loads of laundry and steam coming out their ears? Blurg, parenting is hard. Millie saying "Cute?" is about all I have saving Millie from a life of unapproved stares from Texas Moms.