So Archer has been pooping a lot lately. (God, Listen to me. What has it come to?) Already he pooped 17 times today. I am not lying or embellishing either. I miss the days of bi-weekly pooping at the beginning, when Archer was a small blob of a human, or as his Uncle Russell called him, a "tweedle-heench". Diapers were a quarter slice of heaven back in those days but I will stop now before I get too nostalgic about poop. Back to the present day. Today. By the time 12:30 in the nooner was upon us, I had already dealt with a plethora of poop (not to mention the dogs, who seem to shit for a hobby these days.)
I had some errands to run so I strapped Archer in his stroller, grabbed a sweatshirt and we were out the door. After a brief bookstore browse, post-office stop, and Starbucks soy latte run we decided to slip into Flicka on our way home. Flicka is a fancy shmancy baby-boutique and favorite of local celeb GGC's and our favorite place to purchase overpriced-yuppy-baby-hats. I am crazy about the baby hats if you have not noticed.
I had not known, however, that today was "I'm not a witch, but I play one on TV" day and realized rather quickly that the store was full of celebrity on-screen witches. Witches shopping for baby clothes, me and Archer.
When I see celebs around town I am pretty good with the ol' " I'm not looking" look. It's basically a peripheral stare and only works when wearing sunglasses (which is why all L.A. people wear sunglasses inside, outside, etc. I mean, you never know, right?)
We did a few laps in the store, strutting like were the shit, rock in roll, totally. We spied through the wall of the sale-rack, curious as to what they were buying. Rose who is quite thin was trying on a 2T tutu with little difficulty. Totally witch-chic, really. The older witches were for SURE buying gifts for Clarissa Explains it All/Sabrina's new babe and that was all I got.
Archer usually gets attention everywhere we go so I was surprised at how unfriendly everyone was to us. Witches aside, the mail-guy was totally quiet. And THEN... The answer: Poop, there it is!
That's right. The white t-shirt hanging out from beneath my green sweatshirt was covered in hard/crusty poop. My first GGC (CBH) post was about being caked in spit-up, being totally clueless and then trying to maintain my cool, once I realized (was told) that my baby "soiled" my threads. Today it took me coming home and looking in the mirror to see what kind of condition I was in.
Even worse, (two hours later) and I haven't changed my clothes yet.
I guess there comes a point when shit stops being embarrassing. When dealing with poop is a more common occurrence than eating, drinking, breathing, it's kind of like, "whatever." Plus, it humbles a sister. I may not be the shit anymore but I am sooooo totally poop. Dig that, witches.
And In other more impressive news, my neighbor, friend and brand new Mom, KiwiDebra has started a blog. Read her here. She's funny, clever and her baby is friggin precious.