I was recently drafted to the 2nd Place
Intramural Basketball Championship team, the Shecago Bulls. One does not simply “play” for the Shecago
Bulls. No. To be a Bull requires commitment, it requires
honor, it requires excellent ball handling skills and a complete understanding
of the Betty Hoops Offense. It also
requires Tuesday nights. Competitive
sports keep me sane and Baby Daddy is down for ANYTHING that promotes my
On the night of our first game, Baby Daddy and I were each
rushing back to the house. The Handful
and I were coming from one of our Mommy & Me classes while Baby Daddy was
returning from work. The gym was about a
half hour drive East, and the game itself was going to run about an hour … meaning
I would probably be out of the house a little over two hours. Since I can’t run with milk-boobs, I had to
pump before the game and while Baby Daddy washed bottles, I pumped and got The
Handful ready for bed. She had a mini
poop (pro tip, this means your kid is dehydrated). I mistakenly thought this was it for the
night and put her in a nice ol’ million button footie straight-jacket looking
thing before the hand-off.
Because I’m a jerk, I returned a bunch of phone calls while
driving as a way to selfishly pass time.
I hate when people do that to me and yet here I was doing another thing
I said I wouldn’t do. While I’m
gib-gabbing, my text messages are heating up.
It seems The Handful is being … well … a handful. Whatever, I’m off the clock. I pull over, grab my ball and start dribbling
towards the gym.
Elite squads such as the Shecago Bulls typically engage in
elaborate warm-ups and ours consisted of both right AND left handed
lay-ups. We weren’t messing around. A wise man once told me “How you do anything
is how you do everything” and I wanted these athletes to not see me as a “mom”
but as a serious ball player. So, I
turned my volume off my phone and prayed a silent prayer to Nike that I
wouldn’t be the slowest chick on the court.
After we devastated our opponent, I returned to my phone and
felt pricklies in my hair when I saw paragraphs of texts from Baby Daddy. Not sure about you, but when I see a screen
with a lot of text like that, I skim through before fully reading it word for
word. The first thing I noticed was the
tone was friendly which basically said to me, “It’s safe, keep reading”. Turns out, while I was out Harlem Globe
Trotting in Studio City, Mickey covered herself to the neck … with poop. Poop.To.The.NECK.
Clark Kent to Diaper Dude, Baby Daddy did something that I
still haven’t done, even now as I type this.
He got to give her a solo bath.
That’s right, up until now, every other night he and I go to link national security essay analysis case study get link talk about your mother essay writing strategy guide follow url source url architecture thesis case study pdf here avodart with cialis miller brewing business plan competition https://teleroo.com/pharm/settlement-checks-for-viagra-lawsuit/67/ essay about a place that is special to you essay personal statement example click here https://sugarpinedrivein.com/treatment/nombre-generico-viagra-chile/10/ https://medpsychmd.com/nurse/propecia-for-sale-canada/63/ research chemical serm nolva essay my daily routine jamie reidy viagra best viagra herbal order viagra overnight delivery taking viagra with wine god vs science essay http://go.culinaryinstitute.edu/write-an-essay-about-how-i-spent-my-last-holiday/ crime essay example mla essay title i need help writing a research paper rate my essay free english esays international topics for essay both bathe her. One person does the soaping and the other
does the rinsing and the towel. Then the
other does the oil massage and then swap back to the other for the PJ’s. It’s a whole dance. Whatever, the point is, it was a group
activity. Admittedly too, it feels safer
with extra hands around – just in case.
I kept reading.
Not only did he bathe her, get her in new jammies and get
her to bed, show-off Diaper Dude also put a pizza in the oven for me to eat
upon my glorious return.
I’m not too proud to admit part of me was jealous that he
did something first, and I was surprised that I was also a little bummed that
they didn’t need me. How weird is
that? Who cares who gives her a bath,
what a dumb thing to care about. This
whole parenting thing is like that though, you wind up caring about things you
never thought about before and obviously not caring about other things. Also, thank goodness for Diaper Dude, can I
please get real and imagine if she sat with a poo-neck for three hours? Get over myself. Diaper Dude slayed that Poo Monster and he
did it with flare.
Besides, pizza is absolutely the most delicious post-game meal of all time. Who can be jealous when there’s pizza involved?