BLOOM & HABIT: Home alone

You know you've hit rock bottom when someone takes a crap in your hand.

And then he peed on me, not once... Twice.

Besides that, my first full day/night home alone with the baby, now that The Fella returned back to work and my folks have left, was rather adventure-filled:

Baby doesn't sleep more than a couple hours. No, he wants to be held. Mommy doesn't get to sleep either.
Dog rolls in poo at the dog park.
Mommy tries to bathe Dog while Baby cries hysterically through the monitor in his crib.
Dog tries to get out of tub, presumably to help Baby.
Mommy coos at Baby, "Oooh you're so cuuuute!" Baby projectile spits up in my face.
Mommy tries to smash centipede creature on the wall near me with Baby attached to boob. Unsuccessful.
Finally, Mommy eats dinner on couch while holding Baby. Dog licks food.

There have been equal parts good and bad days since Max was born. (Not including today's little act, obvi.) Good days, meaning a respectable handful of pieced-together hours of sleep through the day and night, minimal hormonal tears, and only one or two projectile poos or pee. Bad days are the exact opposite. I'll let you figure that one out.

On good days, I've managed to get out of the house for little spurts of time, such as to take a walk in the neighborhood. Friends have encouraged me to do this as much as possible, but I've found this to be difficult for the following reasons, take your pick:

a. Baby will need to be fed in less than 1 hour. Again.
b. It's cold.
c. It's rainy.
d. I want nothing to do with the outside world.
e. I'm sleep deprived.
f. I don't want to leave Baby.
g. All of the above.

My parents were visiting for two weeks up until yesterday. They've been a tremendous help... thanks, Mom and Dad! They even dragged me out of the house (kicking and screaming) to go to breakfast one day. How dare they. But in all seriousness, I can even count the number of times I've been out the house on two hands! Here are a few snaps to prove that I have indeed shed the bathrobe...