a few musings


Today is a sad day.
Well, I guess more for my husband than for me.
Along with a few ridiculous photos, let me explain.
The hubs is in love with the Boston Celtics.
And today they traded out Kendrick Perkins {aka Grumps McGee}...
I'll bite your face off.

...Nate Robinson {aka Shorty Eagle Throat}...
I don't even know what to say about this one...

...Marquis Daniels {aka My Fair Braidy}...
Mah hair! Mah hair!

...Semih Erden (aka Turkey-Lurkey)...
English? Le sigh. I have no idea what these people are saying...

 ...and Luke Harangody {aka Hairy-Goaty. Original, eh?}

I know that I am the last person who should be allowed to make fun of sports since I am the least athletic human ever created, but if I am forced {okay...maybe not really forced...but if I want quality time with the hubs...}to watch hours and hours of bouncing leather torture, I have to find some fun in it somehow...
So, while this is all so heartbreaking for Tyrel, who am I supposed to entertain myself with? Totally more heartbreaking for me.

No more giggling at how funny Perkins looks when he runs...
Or making gagging noises at Nate's nasty tattoos when they zoom in on him for free-throws.


At least I still have Shaq.

In other news, it has been Grumpy Baby Week in the Murri household.
The reason?

Oh, the gas! Poor gassy baby. 
Poor frustrated parents.
If she isn't eating or sleeping, she is screaming.
Luckily, thanks to lots of Mylicon drops and some shiatsu massages {compliments of } Tyrel {and if the massages didn't work, it was just adorable watching him try it out}, I think we are on the downhill.
At least she sleeps well {for the most part} once we have soothed her.

I will have to remember to apologize when she is older for all of the names we have called her this week, mainly Turd-Face, Poop, and Pain-in-the-Butt. I have a feeling, however, that this will not be the only moment we use them during her lifetime.

At least the gas has produced a belcher that a daddy can be proud of. Right, Tyrel?


Gassy babies burp.
Burping brings spit-up.
Spit-up ends up on Mommy.

No one tells you that you turn naaaaasty when you become a mom.

You get to say a short, unexpected goodbye to personal hygiene and a loooong hello to seemingly permanent ickiness.
Maybe it's just me, though...cause I see lots of cute moms with little newborns. My head spins trying to figure out how they do it.

On a good day, I get a shower.

 On a great day, one coat of mascara makes it onto my eyelashes {which usually ends up being worn through the next day...and next day...}.

On an excellent day, I get to put real clothing on, not just my spit-up on pjs from the night before. And the night before that.

On an unheard of day {one day I will see you!!!!}, I will get to do my hair. Seriously.
The baby even looks at my hair and makes gross faces. I'm not kidding.

I am truly lucky to have a sweet husband that constantly tells me that I am still the most beautiful girl in the world, despite my rat-top, dry skin, and flabby post-pregnancy body {helloooo wide hips, jiggly thighs, deflated tire-tummy, and ba-dooooonk-a-donk in the back...}.

The thing that amazes me is that it is all worth it. Somehow. You just don't even care :)
Thanks, Little Gassy One.
I adore you.

1 comment:

  1. I love your new header :) it's adorable!!! As for the GAS....when till she's pooping and barfing at both ends at the same time! Cheers :)


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