Little Bits of Pixie Dust

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thourougly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO, what a ride!!"

Monday, December 01, 2008

Torturing my Son

All right, it's time for me to come clean, and really I would never admit this to anyone but hey, who out there is really reading this anyway? The first step is admitting you have a problem...

The other day I was playing with the Peanut on the floor and we were listening to some music, as we are known to do. (We really kick it here, we really do.) I always sing along and he never objected before. Well, a song came on that has a great crescendo in the middle and I got all geared up and belted out the lyrics at the top of my lungs... and the Peanut started screaming like I had jabbed him with a red hot poker. He was totally terrified of my singing voice.

I guess all of my American Idol dreams are now slowly going down the toilet. And I was ready to be all famous and runner up and then go on Celebrity Rehab, just like that chick that's on there right now. But if my own son can't stand the sound, how can I expect the rest of America to torture themselves?

He's getting a lullaby before he goes to bed, damn it, and I don't care who calls CSB on me.


  • At 4:38 PM, Blogger Stefanie said…

    Thanks for the kind words! It does help to have people out there that "get it." When you have twins you'll be screwed. You are going to try and have twins right? Right??? Come on! Misery loves company.


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