I dressed Baby Bug in all black today. Why, you ask? Because I can. Because she happens to have a black shirt and black pants and I’m getting my mom back for all those years she wouldn’t let me wear black when I was a teenager.

“It makes you look old,” she used to say. Which was exactly why I wanted to wear black in the first place. I hated the way I always looked four years younger than I really was. It hasn’t been until lately that my chubby youthful cheeks are paying off. But there was no talking any sense into my mom on that line of thought back then. I’m sure someday when Baby Bug is ten and wearing black eyeliner, I’ll feel the same way. But for now it’s fun to dress her in black. It’s like she’s a little Audrey Hepburn. For about five minutes…then it’s time to break out the lint roller and de-fuzz all the cat hair off her.

We had two meetings with potential babysitters today. We had to look snazzy for them. I’ve been setting up interviews all week. And even though I’m swimming in applicants and I have no idea how I’m going to pick just one babysitter, I still want to impress them by not showing up with a fuzzy baby covered in cat hair sitting in a stroller covered in cat hair because the cats like to sleep in it when I’m not looking. So we de-fuzzed and de-fuzzed and de-fuzzed. I don’t know how I’m going to keep this false pretense up. Sooner or later they’re going to see the real us.

Picking a babysitter is tricky. So far I’m leaning towards a girl who has lots of experience. Even though I’m a die hard stay-at-home-mom, I’m a bit envious of the career moms because they get to tap into the wealth of knowledge that Day Care Providers have. Day Care Providers put your kid on a schedule. They tell you when it’s okay for your kid to eat gold fish crackers and when they should wear shoes with soles. These things are all a mystery to me. I’ve never been a mom before and I have ABSOLUTELY no time to read up on this stuff. I feel like I’m blindly stumbling through mom-hood learning everything by hard knocks and helpful comments from my blog readers. (Major plug for you guys right there, I seriously would not be okay without you.)

For example: the subject of discipline. This is a doozy for me. Baby Bug has started yelling and it’s scaring the beep out of me. Why does she do this? Why is she so loud? Is she not related to me who has a mouse voice that nobody can hear? Does she not live with her Dad who works at home and likes things quiet all the time? We are quiet people, who is this monster who is lifting our roof off with her constant bellowing? It’s not mean or sad bellowing. It’s just bellowing, really really loud. AND she does it in the park and in restaurants and in coffee shops and the grocery store…. It’s very embarrassing. I’m worried all the other moms are looking at me thinking, “What kind of mom is she? Doesn’t she teach her kid manners?”.

I think this is a normal stage that babies go through. I think Baby Bug is just testing her vocal range and my patience. But I need somebody to tell me that. I wish I could check in with somebody with twenty years of experience and they could tell me everything is fine. I ask my mom but she doesn’t remember. And besides I’m the kid with the mouse voice. I don’t think I was ever loud. So I guess I’m checking in with you guys and with the potential babysitter I’m going to hire.

It’s getting close. I’m going to hire somebody by the twelfth of January. I’ve interviewed four girls so far and I have six more to go. They are all so wonderful, it’s going to be hard to pick one. I’m kinda excited about it. I have a lot of freelance work to get to and I think it will be fun to see how productive I can be again. The thought of two uninterrupted hours (in theory—I will be just down the hall) is almost unimaginable. I haven’t had that much time to myself since Baby Bug was born. I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself without someone clamoring to get into my lap.

On a side note… Toby is talking to his sister on the phone and I just overheard him say, “If my daughter loves her Dad, she’s going to hate pink when she grows up.” Hmmmm… I think somebody in this house is getting tired of the pink.