Awkward Baby #6

I’m going to a bachelorette party tonight. It should be pretty fun, and I haven’t been out in a long time. But I’m a lightweight now, the kind that goes out at 7 and comes home by 10:30. I can remember when I wouldn’t set foot in a bar before 10- that’s when the old people leave. Sigh. I’m not even going to drink, because the whole “providing sustenance for my child” thing is something I still find amusing. So I wonder what it would be like if I DID go out and get white-girl crazy. What’s my tolerance like anymore? Would I be three sheets after two drinks? Would I be doing the “who has two fingers and lotsa shots” routine?

This guy!!!!!

This guy!!!!!


Awkward Baby- hic. Awkward Baby- no, really this is serious. This is serious now. Listen, listen- Awkward Baby loves me anyway. Hug it out, man.

Awkward Baby #5

Have you ever been in the middle of a really animated conversation when suddenly a little blob of spit comes arcing out of your face hole toward the person you’re talking to? And you pray they don’t notice or, holy gods, please don’t let it hit them. And you just keep talking, pretending that you didn’t notice, and then pretending you didn’t notice they noticed. And hoping that if they DID notice, you can both just pretend it never happened?

Maintain eye contact....

Maintain eye contact….

Awkward Baby sympathizes.

Awkward Baby #4

Do your kids hate tummy time? My kids HATE tummy time. I mean despise it. Vocally. They both declared that tummy time is completely beneath them. (Heh. Punny!) I don’t do it nearly as often as helpful websites say I should. But I’m not too concerned for my kids deficient gross motor skills, the way those helpful websites say I should be. Both of my kids came out of the womb holding their heads up freakishly well, like they had some new mutant neck-muscles previously unrecorded in newborns. They both decided around two months old that being held vertically on their feet was far superior to any of that pedestrian swaddling or lying down The Man tells babies to do. They both stood up long before they sat up. Big kid walked before he crawled and Little Kid is following in his footsteps. (heh heh! More wordplay!) They both figured out that being held in a standing position where they can participate in the world is resoundingly better than being stuck face down on the floor. I mean, duh. So when I say my kids HATE tummy time, please know that I mean they vehemently hate it, the way I hate celebrity gossip being treated like actual news.

Who the fuck decided to pay attention to Kardashians?

Who decided to pay attention to Kardashians?

And why the fuck aren't you covering the net neutrality voting?

And why aren’t you covering the net neutrality voting?!

Awkward babies just have better things to do with their time.

TBT Awkwardly

The internets say it’s Throw-back Thursday, so let’s get back Awkward Baby style. Here’s me, the original Awkward Baby, way back:


It’s like when you come into the break room at work and everyone is at one table talking and they don’t make any effort to move over or include you so you just kinda stand there wondering what to do with your hands or if maybe you should microwave that Lean Cuisine someone left in the freezer over a year ago just so you have something to do and your uncomfortableness is kind of making everyone else a little uncomfortable.

You know what makes me uncomfortable? The color brown- oh shit.

You know what makes me uncomfortable? The color brown- oh shit.

Original Awkward Baby would sit with you.

Awkward Baby #3

It’s Wednesday everybody! Time for our weekly Awkward Baby:

You ever drive down the road and think you see some crazy big bird circle overhead? What the hell was that? A hawk? Pterodactyl? Gamera? I mean, it was huge! Where did it go? It was low, so it should be right about… over there…


Hold on, let me turn down the radio so I can see better

Awkward Baby can’t get an angle on it, either.

Awkward Baby #2

Wednesday is officially Awkward Baby day here. It’s a new thing I just made up. So here is today’s Awkward Baby situation:

You know how sometimes you go to a soiree at someone’s house and everyone is thinner and better dressed than you, and they’re all nibbling on hors d’oeuvres (which spell check says should be “horseradish”- what kind of crappy parties are you going to, spellcheck?) and being terribly trendy and you’re starving because you thought there’d be real food so you didn’t eat and you’re about to get hangry so you load up a plate but there’s nowhere to covertly stuff your face so you go to sit on the couch where other potentially wall-flowery people might be and it’s a coushy couch with only one seat open so you have to try and lower yourself and your embarrassingly over-full plate really carefully to not spill and/or springboard the other couch occupants out of their seats like an episode of hipster Tom and Jerry so you kind of slouch/sit into the spot all awkward and uncomfortable while trying to look like you’re totally confident?

This is what that feels like:

I just came straight from work.

I just came straight from work.

Awkward Baby shares your discomfort.

The first one

So here it is, friends. My very first blog post. It was a long time coming. Quite a few people have told me I should do this, but they were all people who liked me and wanted me to be happy, so… grain of salt I suppose? I love to write, people tell me I should write, I have things in my head TO write, but there is tremendous fear and doubt about whether or not it will be worthwhile to anyone, including myself. I guess this is just a disclaimer in this first terror-filled post of this new endeavor, so I can get it out of the way and never mention it again. From here on in, there is no doubt, no second-guessing, and no going back. I’m bravely starting this public blog, and dammit- we’re all gonna love it.

Let’s discuss the page name, shall we? I have two disgustingly cute children, and I love them. But sometimes I take pictures of them that make them look like lumpy sacks of baby. And I think this is kind of a metaphor for life:

Sometimes our lives are disgustingly cute, and we should own those moments for all they’re worth. And sometimes, our lives are lumpy, awkward sacks. We gotta own those moments, too.

Here we go!

I make this face at life a lot.

I make this face at life a lot.