Hello. My name is Katie.
At least, I think it is. There is some confusion on my part as to what my name actually is. It could be a multitude of things. Here is a list I have compiled, in my spare time (which conveniently I have A LOT of)
Katie
Baby Katie
Katie Baby
Monkey
Snuggle-Bug
Sweet Pea
Little Kid
Shmoo-Boo
Pooper
The list could go on. I really wish these "parental units" of mine would make up their minds and stick to one.
Today, I danced to salsa music and then did a quick workout on the treadmill. Okay. So, I slept through my workout on the treadmill. I'll admit it. I watched some Ellen DeGeneres and some Oprah. I hung out on my automatic swing machine. Love that thing. Highly recommend one, if you get the chance. Not quite sure what else is on the schedule today. I think I will eat a late lunch and then punch at some giant musical insects, maybe throw a smile or two at Mommy to get her all excited. Such is my life. Isn't it grand?
Today is my 1 month birthday.
I have to tell you the truth. It seems that I am quite lucky to have made it this far. Please see illustrations below as to why I say this....
This is my Mommy. She's been having a tough go of it. Being the independent minded infant that I am, I decided to stick it to The Man at birth. I was going to buck the trend and come into the world sideways as a statement of my individuality. This meant a quick little surgery for Mom. I knew she could take it, she's tough. Sorry Mom, but I gotta keep it real. Then, I decided that I was going to pretend to NOT know how to suck on a nipple. I still pretend when I can. Don't tell her, but I know what bottles are and I'll be damned if it isn't easier gettin' a meal out of one of those. She's been trying everything she can to get me to eat "au natural", but I ain't havin' it. I have to give her an "A" for effort though. She hasn't given up on me yet.
She's still adjusting to this stay-at-home mommy business. She's new to the mommy thing and let me tell you, IT SHOWS. Jeez. She didn't even know how to put a diaper on me. Daddy had to show her how to do it. She's all nervous all the time too. Every little thing I do, she looks up in her books to make sure that it's "Normal". Helllllllooooooo? Can you say "Whack-Job"? Just to get her riled up, I love to wait until she has my diaper off and then I poop on her. Yes. I poop on her. She gets all flustered and starts rushing around like a crazy person to get me all cleaned up. It is great fun. I kill me! Ha!
She loves updating her blog and surfing the net when she gets the chance. I can't say that I have been very cooperative in that respect. I demand a lot of attention. She's learned to sneak an update when she can. The most imporant thing is that she loves me. She kisses and hugs me all the time. But hey, who wouldn't want to? I mean come on people! Take a look at the photo at the top of this entry and tell me you wouldn't. Yes, I am cute.....and modest too! All that and a bag of chips.
This is my Daddy. What can I say? I mean, look at this picture. Mom is definitely the more serious of the two of them. She seems to take my crying personally. Daddy on the other hand cries right back at me. No. I mean it. He really does. He'll be, like, "Waaahhhhh! Waahhhhh! All I do is cry and poop! Waaaah! Waaaah!" I wonder is he talking about me or himself? Daddy likes to play games with me. He is very entertaining. I would be hardpressed to choose which is my favorite one. I think it would be a toss-up between being the "Queen of Knee-Top Mountain" or his rendition of the "Poopy Song". As for the "Poopy Song", I hear American Idol is coming to our area for try-outs. I see a million dollar record contract on the horizon for Dad. Ivy-league college, here I come!
Dad likes to have fun. He's already taught me so many things. Here are just a few examples: all meals must have a ying and a yang taste, I must always ask for newer/better toys even if the old ones are still in good working order, I must learn calculus at an early age, I must annoy Mommy every chance I get, it is easier to be Fighter class in Elder Scrolls: Oblivion than a battle mage, and last but not least, Daddy's are the best (don't tell Mommy).
Anyways, Mommy is always telling Daddy to be careful when he plays with me. I wonder why? Is he clutzy or something? Is there something that you people aren't telling me? Do I have reason to be concerned?
So, those are my parents. I guess I am still getting used to them, as they are getting used to me. I AM quite a handful. But, they have noone else to blame but themselves. It's all genetic and stuff. They brewed the pot and now they have to drink it. What that means, I have no idea. What the hell is a pot?
Ba-dum, dum. I'm here all week people! Try the fish. Thank you and good night!
