I could be doing things. Or I could be sitting here, trolling the internets for baby cribs. We're leaving Monday morning for a good ole vacay, which means I have to do the following:
And instead I have spent the morning . . .
- Visiting with Robert's pet squirrel (the slutty one)
- Playing with our new camera
- Painting my toes
- Realizing I can't get rid of my Amby Baby for top dollar on Craig's List because there was a recall. Of course.
- Lamenting my crib purchase
as well since my toddler is managing to destroy it
I don't know, before I had her, the baby didn't seem like it was going to be such a permanent thing. I guess I assumed I'd be such a terrible mom that surely she would have died from my lack of skills. Me? A parent? There has been no house plant or goldfish I have not killed, so why would a baby be any different?
The fear of SIDS was so paralyzing as well that I am utterly shocked that B has survived to become a healthy, vibrant, loud, strong, destructive, squealing girl. But that means the delicate bed I bought her as been shaken and gnawed to the point of missing a rod.
Check out some of these unusual cribs . . .