Two years ago today JM and I were celebrating our half-birthday in Barcelona. I was clean, I had makeup on and I was drinking beer in the streets. Later that night my girl was conceived. Currently it is 8:00am on Saturday morning and she’s throwing a patented monster tantrum because I won’t let her watch her
Baby Einstein World Music
DVD. I'm forced to make this decision because a month ago she broke the DVD player. Did I mention I was up no less than eight times last night?
I feel like there’s an ad for birth control in here somewhere.
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