10 Weeks!

Someone keeps dressing my daughter like a homeless person.



I mean, what the heck is going on there? And what about here?




Is whoever dressed her color and pattern blind? Or were they just drunk? I mean who did that!?

Oh, right. That was me. But to be fair. .. I was drunk.

Ok, no I wasn't but she didn't start off all Fisher King, she started out in a cute outfit and then proceeded to pee and or poop on pieces of the outfit one at a time until I've changed her into what can only be described as "an art student outfit". And I can say that because I went to school where the professors wore outfits exactly like the one's she has on. Except with more b.o.

Anyway, mismatched outfits aside, ten weeks is better than nine, which was better than eight, which was better than seven, and so on. People tell you that you'll love them more every day and as cliche as it sounds, it's totally true. It doesn't matter that you only get four hours of sleep (not in a row) or that you get pooped on at the same time every day, or that your nipples are so bruised and blistered and slathered with anti-bruise and blister cream that they resemble something out of a horror movie and you can't ever imagine that they'll be viewed in a sexy way ever again - the sheer joy you get from watching them do something as simple as wake up beats everything.

I mean. . . how can this not make your day?





Yes, she did poop in the middle of filming. Sorry about that, but I sorta only get one take.

Now, if you'll excuse me I have to go change someone's pants so that she looks like the lost member of Color Me Badd.