All The Bad Habits I Blame On My Baby

There is a magical, never-ending pile of dirty dishes in the sink

My excuse: The baby just keeps me running around in circles! He’s so needy!

What I mean: No, the baby does not need tending every single minute. I’m just too tired to wash the dishes every night.

The floors haven’t been swept in at least a week and a half

My excuse: The Roomba is acting up and I need my husband to fix it.

What I mean: We have a Roomba but I hate it because it requires as much attending as the baby does, so the floor just don’t get done.

The recycling bin needs to constantly be taken out

My excuse: We’re green! We just make SO MUCH recycling waste that our bin is always full.

What I mean: I am so tired of carrying heavy things that I just do not care.

Never, ever being caught up on laundry

I don’t actually have an excuse for this. Work clothes, weekend clothes, and a billion effing baby outfits because he poops in literally everything we put on him.

I am always wearing a stained shirt

My excuse: Babies grab things. Constantly.

What I mean: If you care in the least that I have a stain on my shirt and you aren’t signing my paychecks or sleepling with me, I don’t really give a damn what you think of my appearance.

My bag is always overflowing to the point of not being useful

My excuse: Better prepared! These are all essentials. Especially the extra diaper, packet of food, Target receipts, candies, and three pairs of headphones.

What I mean: I am an unorganized, messy person and I’m sorry you care so much about what the inside of my purse looks like.

My unwashed, often un-brushed hair

My excuse: Messy buns are in! Mom chic! It’s carefreeeeeeee.

What I mean: He’s just going to pull my hair anyway and I don’t have the time or money to get it done so fuck it.

I am constantly late

My excuse: Baby needed a bottle. Then fell asleep. Then wanted to go for a walk around the neighborhood.

What I mean: My brain is entirely focused on securing the survival of my offspring. I do not care any more about your Cookies & Poetry meet up that I said I would attend.

… or completely forgetting that I’m supposed to be somewhere

My excuse: See above. Add in a tantrum or surprise vomiting.

What I mean: I literally missed a doctor’s appointment while writing this post. Also I never sleep, and it is affecting my brain.