What was I thinking?

It was my sophomore year in high school. My
cool older sister had a party for graduation and I hit one of her friend's cars in the driveway and didn't tell my parents, I thought I could save the money and pay for the cracked tail light without them ever knowing. I don't know how I thought I would save the money, I didn't have a job. My dad always said we would work our whole lives, just enjoy high school and he'd give us money when we needed it. Well, after a few weeks of the incident, the girl called our house to collect the money and my mom answered the phone. My secret was out.

"What was I thinking?"

My senior year in high school I was pretending to be mad and I used all the strength I could muster to throw open our garage door. It broke, costing my parents hundreds of dollars in repairs.

"What was I thinking?"

Just a few weeks ago, I needed to shower but Grant wouldn't fall asleep so I put him in his vibrating chair outside the shower so when his bink fell out I could slip my arm out of the shower door and put it back in his mouth. When I got out, he was soaking wet. He was getting sprayed by the shower over the door.

"What was I thinking?"

I hated 7th grade. We were moving to Utah the summer before I started 8th grade and someone signed my yearbook, "Have fun in Utah. I know I will here. I won't have to look at your ugly face ever again." I literally didn't have any friends and I hated eating lunch by myself. I wanted detention during lunch so I called a girl a bitch within earshot of a teacher. Now, not only did I not have friends but I managed to make myself an enemy.

"What was I thinking?" Upon arrival in the Beehive state I made my first friend, and life was good.

Take time to read the book.

I decided to sit down and read the owners manual to my camera my dad bought me when we had Grant. It was a very smart thing to do.

His close-up went from this,


to this.


Much better.

I just love his big feet.

He makes me laugh.

Grant is sleeping, he starts to get agitated, really squirmy, his face turns beet red. I think he's going to wake up ready to feed. But wait, he ate only 45 mins ago. Did he not get enough to eat? Is my milk drying up? Did I not drink enough water today? Have I not consumed enough calories to produce the milk my growing son needs?

Then he farts, he farts loud, and drifts back peacefully into dream land.

I laugh.

When does farting become gross? When we know better, I guess.