Parenting is not for sissies

Sitting in the obstetricians office 23 years ago, i was a rabid consumer of ‘parenting’ magazines.  Those soft focus photos of content mothers nursing cherubic infants were like crack… Over the years, wiping the puke from my hair, cleaning up bodily effluents, and managing the blood and guts of child-rearing, i somehow never seemed to have many of those actual ‘soft focus’ moments.

Last night, The Girl and i were both at the homestead, flitting about preparing to go out.  Her, to meet friends for a show.  Me, on another weeknight date.  i was perfectly prepared to swap my work trousers for a pair of jeans, and head out in a blazer and tank top.  Instead, she of the amazing style and fashion sense, dragged me into the walk-in closet for a quick make-over.

In the end, it was a pair of snug jeans and a flattering* blouse.  She raided my shoe closet to finish the ensemble, emerging with a pair of my strappy stilletos.  i’m cringing – ” ‘fuck me sandals’? with jeans?!?!?  Argh….”.  But she convinced me that since the rest of the get up was fairly low key, the shoes would be the proverbial foot-stomper.

Being a bit of a fashion doofus, i was struggling with fastening the clasps.  She offered to help.  As she was helping me get dressed:  “Awww… this is cool!  Just like it will be in the nursing home some day!”

daisyfae:  Not quite.  You’ll have to change my diaper before putting on my ‘fuck me’ shoes…

Your mother wears combat boots... not...

Your mother wears combat boots... not...

* Cleavage exposed.  The Model Year 2007 Bionic Twins were out to play…