What are you looking at?

Happy Birthday to me, it's my special day

Hey, guys, what's happening. Kara in the house! Four months ago today, the doctors pumped my mother full of drugs and ripped open her stomach to bring me into the world. Hooray for modern technology! And Vicodin, according to my mom. Certainly merits a post, don't you think?

Let's see. What to report? I just learned to laugh, I spend hours at a time sucking on my hands, and I can finally last longer than two hours in between feeds. Go me!

I'm also the right size for some very peculiar onesies.

I've been told I got these from a special blog auntie who creates one-of-a-kind clothing for babies, clothing that references dated pop-culture icons who were all the rage thirty-seven million years ago. Take this one, for example. Who is this Kyle person? What isn't his fault? Did he scream his ever-loving head off in a McAlister's Deli and poop all over his clothes, causing his mother to Lose It in front of dozens of judgemental strangers who could only stare as he banged his legs against the cheap plastic changing table while sobbing over life's injustices? Because sometimes, dear readers, this cannot be helped.

Now that you mention it, though, Kyle is quite dreamy. Perhaps he would consider accompanying me to Babies R Us? Picture this: a dimly lit sales floor, my Baby Bjorn, a Baby Einstein serenade.... I get weak in the knees just thinking about it.

Is it hot in here? Goodness.

Moving on.

Now THESE guys I know! Jump, jump! Joey Joe will make ya, jump jump! Jordan Knight will make ya-- Wait, what? Hold on, my mom's calling me.

....

You mean to tell me this isn't Kris Kross?! Crap. But no worries. "Step by Step" is quite delightful. As are drug-free school zones.

This guy's OK, even if he is trying to one-up me for Best Hair. Clearly, I have the best hair. So what if there are bald spots above my ears? It's my new take on the mullet: Business on the sides, party on the top.

"Future Blogger" my tush. The time is now, baby! Momma, eat my dust.

Eavesdropping

You guys! You'll never guess what I heard the other day...

Scene: How should I know, I'm only three months old; Momma and Daddy staring at a big black box while Momma crazily waves a hand in front of my face:

Momma: Hey, look! Twelve Angry Men is in town! You know I did that play in high school? I was the guard.

Daddy: We can go, if you want.

Momma: That would be fun. Oh, yay! I haven't seen a play in forever.

Daddy: We'll have to get a sitter, you know.

Momma: Huh?

Daddy: You know, for Kara. You can't bring a baby to a play.

Momma: Oh. Right. Nevermind.

Daddy: Did you forget we have a child?

Momma: No?

Daddy: ....

Mommy! I am the love of your life! How could you blank on my smashing good looks?

Your mom admits defeat!

Hey, guys, Kara here. What's up? My mom's still on hiatus from non-paid writing (enter shameless plug for Parental Discretion Advised, where she's been a blogging FOOL), so she asked me to post something--ANYTHING--that doesn't imply she's about to throw herself under a bus.

How's that for starters?

Anyway, my mom. What a downer, huh? Why'd she have to be all, "Life is so hard, love me, pity me, cry for me, Argentina," when all she had to do was say, "Listen, peeps. I need a break. See you on the flip side...of your mom!" (Momma said nothing's better than a good "your mom" joke. Am I doing it right? I've got enough trouble keeping my dinner out of her pants without stressing over comedic timing, too.) She fully admits to being kind of a drama queen, and now that she's given herself permission to take it easy for a bit, she's a much happier person to be around. She doesn't cry when she goes to work anymore, and she actually feels a lot better about her job, and she and Daddy have even decided to stay in central Indiana and buy a house for me. They say it's "for the family," but really, it's for me.

I wonder if they'll get a decorator for my room? Sea life bedding is sooo 2007.

Life is very good. Auntie Samantha and Uncle Dan found out they're having a baby boy, and I'm way excited to teach my little cousin how to roll over, which I just mastered yesterday, thank you very much. I also like to suck on my feet, which Momma thinks is gross, but she still listens to Hanson, so even at its best, her taste is questionable.

Anyway, she wanted me to let you guys know that she really appreciated all the nice comments you left on her last entry, and she loves you all very much, and she's working on getting her act together so she can hang out with you again soon. She's even working on a new blog design, which, praise Jesus, because really, Mom, that dumb Prada picture? The joke is over. Time to move on.

Until then, she said I could use her blog to post pictures once and a while, and I totally will, because it's not fair to withhold my adorableness from the masses. You guys live hard lives, being adults and all. Consider it my gift to you.

That said, feel free to return the favor. My birthday? Is December 17th. Baby Einstein CDs, froggie bibs, and spare toes accepted.