big girl pants

Ryan is hunting (aka armed-hiking-and-camping) this weekend.

Because he is a delightful, generous, and loving creature, he offered to buy me a day of babysitting while he's gone.

Last week we booked a babysitter to come from 10 to 8 tomorrow, so I would have an extra set of hands for lunch, naptime, dinner, and bedtime.

Fast forward to 20 minutes ago when she CANCELED.

Reasonable Katie: She's a very responsible person and I'm sure that she has a very good reason and/or a serious conflict, otherwise she wouldn't cancel on short notice like this. Sure, it's inconvenient, but I'll just realign my expectations for the weekend, and besides, my mother-in-law is coming over for a few hours on Sunday morning, so this really isn't--

Hysterical Katie: I will now send one hundred pounds of flaming dog poop to her house.

Reasonable Katie: Oh, come on. This is not a big deal. You know, this is actually a good thing, because that babysitting money can be put to better use.

Hysterical Katie: Yeah, like paying people for dog poop.

Reasonable Katie: Just stop. Quit bitching. Seriously. People have two kids with no help, Katie. Stop wallowing and put on your big-girl pants. Get over it.

Hysterical Katie: OK. Good point. Big-girl pants on. I'm over it.

Buster throws up on my big-girl pants.

Hysterical Katie: BRING ME THE POOP FROM THE DOGS THAT HAVE EATEN ALL OF THE TUNA SALAD AND FUNFETTI BIRTHDAY CAKE.

PS, if you're wondering, this is what big-girl pants look like.


It should be said, however, that this is not what they look like on me.

REGARDLESS!

I'm wearing them. And I do feel bigger and badder. Bring it on, Saturday without a babysitter.

Have a great weekend everybody. May you all eat all of the pizza and drink one too many glasses of wine with lunch.

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