What’s A Weekend To A Baby?

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My Little Man

Babies could give a damn about “three-day” weekends, or any “weekend” for that matter. Do you know why? Because babies are survivalist who only care about themselves. Before Shawn came along, my husband and I lived for the weekends…they were our holy grail…damn near sacred! We went to bed late and woke up even later. You try calling us at 12 noon on a Saturday and best believe you’re getting the voicemail. When we were hungry we went out to eat, we took naps, we’d drink wine, we’d engage in “adult activities” (which got us into this predicament) and we’d spend the rest of our weekend on the couch in front of the TV, watching Grey’s Anatomy, trying to figure out what was going to happen next with Meredith and Derek. As Bernie Mac would say, “Good living! Good living!”.

My how the mighty have fallen. Having a child changes EVERYTHING. No, not somethings…EVERYTHING. Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Don’t look through my diary and judge me, I love my little man, but why is his eternal clock stuck on 6AM?!?! He doesn’t have a job or any previous commitments. Is he known for running late so to overcompensate he shows up entirely too early?

And, I’m not complaining because it’s Saturday, and my husband and I have worked hard all week, or because I have cramps and my head hurts. It’s the fact that it’s 6AM, we’re standing over this crib half-alive and this kid is acting as if he’s a Presidential Candidate before his first pep-rally…REVVED UP & READY TO GO!

All I am saying is the next time I’m at work and a co-worker without children tells me how nice a weekend they had but it went to quickly, I will refrain from kneeing them in their balls and/or lady parts, because I do not want to ruin their chance of having children…because there lies the real payback.

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