More Mommy Confessions (my favorite kinda post)

So Sunday was Mother's Day. A day where everyone with offspring posts adorable photos of themselves with said offspring. Every profile picture is changed to include moms. There are 7,000 more statuses on your news feed as usual. It's exactly the reason that I refuse to check Facebook during any holidays or sporting events. Repetition. It gets to me. It crawls under my skin and eats away at every fiber of my being. I have zero patience for reading the same thing over and over and over and over and...

So Sunday. We went to the Mystic Aquarium. It was ridiculously fun (even including my minor brain lapse). You see, the Mystic Aquarium was kind enough to invite family bloggers for a day of fun on Saturday, the 11th (the day before Mother's Day). I knew this...and yet for some reason I just got the words "Mother's Day Event" stuck in my mind and so we showed up on Sunday instead of Saturday. How's that for a #bloggerproblem? (#mombrain). And yes, I just hashtagged in my post. I know how annoying that is, but who cares? I kind of like it. So the point is the people at the aquarium were super nice and gave us all the perks we would have experienced the previous day--free admission, meal tickets, and tickets to Sponge Bob in 4D (we made it through the part where you walk in the door and put on the glasses and play around with the chair for a little--and then Carter was ready to leave right around the time the movie started. But hey, you gotta learn to be flexible with an almost two year old, am I right?)

bear shirt from Zulily

Me, Carter and a Beluga, along with two random people.

With the exception of a few meltdowns (including one where Carter threw his Super Man hat into the water--not a tank with animals, don't worry--it was just a little pond by a walkway...but...Super Man hat = no more) the day was a success. I expected Carter to be fussier because of his unfortunate doses of prednisone (curse you, poison ivy!!), but the Beluga whales really held his attention and made him forget about all his woes.

And there it is ^^ so long, super man hat. You will be missed. 

So I have two HUGE confessions and one minor one.

Confession #1: I am a pro at booger-flicking now. Gross, I know, but it's true. What else am I to do when Carter hands them to me from the back seat and I don't have a tissue nearby? It goes like this: Carter yells "Mama! Mama! Mama!" from the back seat. He grunts to let me know he's straining to hand me something. It's a gut reaction. I instinctively reach back and I'm greeted with a booger. Great. Now I have two choices. I can either roll down the window and flick the sucker out, or I try to hold the wheel steady while I reach waaayyy over to the glove compartment to try to grab a tissue, all while endangering our lives. Flicking it is! Are you ever posed with this dilemma? Or are you just super prepared and have a huge box of tissues right in the center console like some super hero or something?

Confession #2: This one starts off good. We're in the midst of potty training. We're 4 days in and we've gone three days straight with consistent potty use (it's been extremely exciting). We've got #2 down. It's the other I'm worried about. There's been pee on the floor, on our screen door, on the bath mat, towels; you name it and it's been peed on. But yesterday....the fridge. He opened the fridge, looked around for a snack, and then apparently thought it was a good time to let it all out. Do you know the disinfecting that is needed after such an occurrence? My goodness, child. Could you have done it anywhere else? Fortunately, he's my favorite child, so I just looked at him and said "Good job! Except we really need to do it just in the potty, okay???????? oookkkkkkkkaaayyy??????????? please???).

And now for a random confession that has nothing to do with anything. I don't understand hipsters. I (kind of) get other cliques, but what are hipsters, really? A bunch of people with wool socks and grandpa glasses? And what about those hipsters from college? Hipsters write weird things in creative writing classes. The following is exactly what a hipster's hipster would write in creative writing. Maybe I'm just not ironic (or genius) enough to get it:

Red, yellow, blue. Sitting in a corner; a dark corner. Green. Stop. Red, yellow, blue. One. Two. Three. Four. Walls are closing. Footsteps. A small girl with a butterfly. Red. Go. One, two, three, four; blue, yellow. Stop.

Oh, you don't get that either? Okay then.

linking up with heather and megan

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