Destructibaby is 17 months old. When he cries, his sweet mouth widens to a warbling rectangle and tears leak down his cheeks, and he stands with his arms at his sides, chin up, crying out, “Hon-eeeee! Hon-eeeee!”
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It's been quite the transition to motherhood or, as I like to call it, Mom Eats Last. Some days it feels like SJ and I are killing it: We get enough sleep, we eat, we shower, the house gets cleaned, the bills get paid, and we leave the house and return to it, all without killing the baby.
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