First Impressions

So, The Blast, who I just picture now to look like this--

--well, he can hear us now.  That is freaky.  It's troublesome, too, because this has been one of those weeks--those grumpy, cranky, squinty mean faces all day weeks--at school where I might not have been talking in my nicest sweetest voice.

In short, the baby already thinks I'm a bitch.  Either that, or it thinks that its mom is Sissy Spacek because my ninth graders have been listening to To Kill a Mockingbird.  Shoot.

So this weekend I'm going to work on being nicer and less cranky.  Or at least recording myself saying nice and encouraging things so that I can get some stomach headphones and feed him happy thoughts.  This weekend there will be open windows and two dogs and maybe a little bit of shopping and cake.  There had better be cake, or I'm bringing back my bitch voice.

Hope your weekend is full of happiness and cake!


****Baby, if you are reading this far, far in the future.  First impressions are really important.  I am kind of a bitch, which you probably know already.  Never date a girl who's not at least a little bit of a bitch.  Also, don't use the word bitch unless you're over 13.****