Patriotic Peanut

She didn’t really know if she wanted in, but like I’ve said before, if Daddy’s doing it, it must be ok.

The farmer had to use his muscles to get her in her floatie. I hate it when he has to do that…

I named the floatie “Bumblebeetuna” and I’m still trying to get her to call it that. The best I can get is a blank look that says, “Who picked this lady to be my momma?” I love this picture of my sweet lil’ Peanut.

I really like this one, too. Bumblebeetuna, however, looks a little overwhelmed.

Subject change:

I went to my mom’s house yesterday for dinner. It was her birthday. I bought her Paris Hilton’s Heiress perfume because she really likes it. We had grilled cheese and pork n’ beans for dinner. The irony was not lost on me…

Final subject change:

One of the many ways I am reminded on a daily basis that “baby brain” does not leave once you have the baby:

I was in the Wal-Mart parking lot yesterday after buying groceries. The car is running, Peanut is in her carseat, the groceries are all loaded, and here I am emptying my purse of all its contents because I can’t find my keys.

Heaven help me,

The Dairy Maid