how babies change (you)

It's pretty obvious how my baby changed me. I went from smoking joints with my roommates after work and staying up till 3am watching Dexter before loading myself with caffeine for my 7am shift and topping off with a cigarette for good measure to ACTUALLY being a responsible, (mostly) law-abiding and (overall) healthy adult. I think my mother would like for me to be able to say that I now use less profanity, but that's just not fucking true. I do try to censor myself for those little ears though. Most of the time. How embarrassing is it going to be when the Molls gets around to talking and is as comfortable with with the words "shit" and "hell no" as she is with having to "piss" in the potty. Which we totally say. Piss is an amazing word. It's an onomatopoeia. I'm in favor of most of those.

Whatever. The FUNNEST part of seeing change happen is seeing it happen in OTHER people. My best friend and partner in occasional criminal cahoots these past twelve years Sarah Little was one of the last people I expected to fall in love. Yeah. With a boy too, but here I'm referring to a baby. She went from making fun of fat-ankled preggo ladies and gagging at the *thought* of ANY human's pissing and shitting in their pants on a daily basis to ooohing and ahhing over my "Chubble Bubble." She had a picture of Molly's freaking 4D (or whatthefuckever) ultrasound AS HER DESKTOP BACKGROUND for MONTHS before Molly was born. Now she's planning to have her own. Hear that? no? It's the slurping sound of my fucking adorable baby SUCKING Sarah Little Flanigan IN to the *decision* to procreate.

Suckaaaaaaa.

In other news, I joined a gym. One that has a playroom you can leave your kids in for a max of 2 hours while you go chase sanity on a treadmill.  I feel pretty good about that. I mean, I totally fell into the consumerism trap of also going and purchasing new gym shoes today, because you know, I can't get fit in old gym shoes. that would be like, impossible. Or at least uncool. Whatever. Now I have new-gym-shoe confidence for when I realize that that carrot of sanity is attached to an effing string dangling in front of said treadmill.