What does it take to be considered a MacGuyver Mom? I don’t know–having a baby wipe out in two seconds in the nick of time, ninja-like reflexes to save a kid from a fall, supersonic swaddle skills etc. I think my friend Joslyn is a MacGuyver Mom. When we hang out, she literally takes care of herself, her son, me, and my son. While I’m getting better, I’m distinctly not in this category because I seem to be in a perpetual state of disarray. Fortunately, I find this hilarious.
Today, I made Baby’s pediatrician smell the box of powder formula because the stuff smells so rank I worried it was spoiled (sort like when Becca and I lived together and we used to make each other take a whiff of the spoiled milk–just to be sure that nasal-piercing foul odor was indeed foul. Turns out formula does indeed just smell rank.) and in the process, dropped the box, spilling formula powder on the office floor and the fancy dress my cousin just gave me from her company. Yay! But at this point, the dress had already became spit-up couture when Baby puked up Second Breakfast on my sleeve. This is also the day where my in-laws are coming to visit for a week. I somehow snaked on the skin-tight Kentucky t-shirt on Baby to welcome them, but I have no idea how I’m going to get it off. I’m thinking of cutting him out of it. When I got home, I found out a callback for this HBO show (whatever, the line is “no”; just give me the freaking part), but because I spoke so favorably of my mom at the audition, they have invited MY MOM to audition for the show as well.
Mom, professional ham, conversation hogger (pig theme), said she’d have to think about it.
I love this day.