– We have ants. Not those giant, creepy ones, but teeny tiny ants. It started slowly, one here or there. They seemed to be mostly in the kitchen and mostly near the sink, but for the life of me I couldn’t (and still can’t) find the source. I’ve cleaned everything, and yet, they remain. Yesterday I went out and bought some ant traps and the result is HORRIFYING.

What was before a problem of three or four ants every so often, is now at least 50. The traps seem to be working in the sense that they’re all hanging out in it, but still. Apparently this trap works by an ant tasting the delicious poison, then going off to tell his friends about it before returning for more. I guess that meant telling the entire mini-ant population of Rhode Island that my kitchen is the new hot spot in town. The directions say to leave them alone and let them do their thing. Not chase them around with bleach spray and a paper towel humming “The ants go marching one by one…TO THEIR GRAVE MWAHAHAHAHA”. Although I’m finding it hard not to do that and instead watch them swarm the traps on my kitchen counter. GAHHHHH I hope it’s over soon.

– You might have read that article in the Huffington Post, “Apologies to the Parents I Judged Four Years Ago”. A few people posted it on Facebook and there were definitely some points I could relate to. I have two judgement-stories I can think of right away from before I became a parent myself. Once, I was trying to get together with my friend Sara (of the Stories of Motherhood posts) while she was at home with her first baby. He was relatively young at the time, and we were planning on lunch. That day she kept texting to reschedule, pushing the time later and later and I thought to myself, what is the PROBLEM here? How hard can it be to get out of the house with an infant? I mean, they’re a little blob of kid! Pop him on he boob, change his diaper and let’s go.

Ha. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Needless to say, after Owen was born I confessed my judgement to her and apologized. She laughed and said no apologies necessary, as she had once judged just the same as I.

The other time I can recall very clearly is a day we sat on our friend’s couch watching their two boys play. I was pregnant with Owen, and as the boys climbed the couch like monkeys, jumped off and onto each other and rolled around like maniacs, Michael and I looked at each other with wide eyes of fear. On the drive home we smugly talked about how our kids would never be so wild, how they would never jump on the couch.

Heads up: if you’re newly pregnant, maybe you don’t want to come sit on my couch during Owen’s waking hours. Unless of course you’d like to shield yourself from a toddler dive bombing you while shouting “Weeee!!!!”, before he climbs down and starts playing with trucks. Just a thought.

That crow I’m eating tastes mighty fine.

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