A Toddler, a Baby, and a Bulldog

Random thoughts compiled since we brought Audrey home from the hospital:

I can handle anything with a lot of prayer and Velvet Hammer.

I’m tired. All the time.

If I could bottle the energy in my toddler, I could instantly wipe out the entire caffeine industry.

Sleep is something I only dream about (I have to day dream about it because I don’t get to sleep long enough at night to actually have a dream).

After reattaching the net 1483 times, it finally occurred to me that the Little Tyke toy basketball goal is designed for toddlers shooting layups, not Daddy draining 3’s from the dining room.

In sheer defiance of the laws of physics, geometry, and real estate, a 65-lb. bulldog will occupy more space on the bed than two grown adults.

We have three classifications of laundry in our house:

1. Whites
2. Colors
3. Things the dog has peed on.

Speaking of laundry, when your baby hits for the Stain Triple Crown (Blood, vomit, and poop) it’s best to just throw away the onesie. Don’t listen to the makers of Tide. They lie. Mr. Clean working with the inventor of napalm couldn’t get that stain out. Just throw it away.

The “Terrible Twos” are real, but they are worth it because nothing in the world beats getting a hug from a toddler.

Whenever I pick up Ella, I say “I got you, Ella.” Recently, she started saying “I gotchu, daddy” every time I pick her up. She has no idea how much she has me.

Legos sets are much more elaborate than when I was a kid.

Disney could charge me $600 a month for Disney+, and I would still have to pay it (please don’t let Bob Iger read this post).

Despite all the physical issues Audrey is dealing with, the question I ask most frequently is “Where did she get red hair?”

When feeding your baby through a feeding tube in the middle of the night, it’s best to unclamp the feed line BEFORE you start the pump and go back to bed.

Giving my baby a shot is the least favorite part of my day. Even though I know the shot is to prevent blood clots in her brain, making Audrey cry hurts me more than it hurts her.

Even though my baby is deaf, I feel the need to verbally tell her how cute she is at least 138 times a day.

I’m still tired.