My sister called me a "young mom" today which was totally not supposed to be a compliment, I think she just forgot I'm not 16 anymore. Which is a problem I'm having too. I'm just a normal aged mom, but in my head I'm totally eligible for 16 and Pregnant, and definitely not as old as my mom was when I was a kid - when I was a kid she was ooooooold. I remember her 36th birthday and how sad I was that she was getting old and we probably didn't have much time left.
And she was older. I think. In the mature sense of the word. I mean, she didn't sit around on a Wednesday eating a hot pocket directly out of the crisping sleeve and watching Selena Gomez videos on youtube while her kids napped. Not that she was old-old, but more mature? More organized? More inclined to veer away from awesomely bad teen pop? More apt to not draw a little mustache on her baby with eyeliner and move her chin up and down to pretend she's speaking in a German accent, ordering people around during bathtime, "Now you schnitzel, get ze zoap and vash me good or I'll have you excommunicated! Sproken! Mazeltoven unt volkswagon nine!"
I'm not sure why, but one of my favorite things to do with my baby is make her talk in a deep man's voice. Usually giving ridiculous orders. Right before this nap she, in a very movie-phone-guy voice, ordered the cat to wash her socks. Pronto! And yesterday she spent a good ten minutes complaining about all the traffic on the way to work. (She doesn't go to work. See? It's funny because she's just a baby!)
"Listen dog, let's say you and me hit the strip club after work. These ones aren't gonna throw themselves."
Oh James-Earl-Jones-sounding baby, dogs aren't allowed in strip clubs!
Yeah, I need to talk to more adults. I'm fully aware.
And so is Sean Connery baby.