Roaches & Dog Food

Today I ponder as I type in my rubber gloves: Am I a neglectful mother?

Today My Little One ate pieces of a dead, dried cockaroach. Later in the day, she ate dog food.

Totally friggin nasty gross to the max disgusting on both counts.

(She's so cute, though that I still give her smooches.)

We have moved!! (The pipe just burst under the kitchen sink thank you very much Mr. DPD).
We are Homeowners!! (Did you ever friggin clean your house, ASS? After all, you had 2 english sheep dogs and SEVEN {oh how I strongly dislike them} cats.)
At the tender age of 35, I finally own my own home.
Deep breath.
Big gulp of Old Grand Dad and coke.

Yes -- big news, right? Exciting, indeed! I'm now a suburbanite. Nice. Love it!

How does my new home pertain to My Little One's new protien-enriched diet?

Scene One: Well, see, we've been a little busy. She's still a crawler. I put her on the floor as I lift boxes or move furniture or supervise projects. In our old house, there was a crusty roach on the pergo and I was helping Hubby with moving when I hear My Eldest yell, "eeewwwwww, Mommy! Little Sister ate a cockaroach!!" I saw that damned roach when I walked in the door. I knew My Little One might go there. I knew she would reach out and pick it up and try to eat it. I saw it there and just hoped that she wouldn't. I trusted My Eldest to supervise and specially asked her to watch Little Sister so that she didn't put anything in her mouth. But neither hope nor Eldest did not take the place of me just being The Mom and picking up the roach proactively. I learned my lesson. and SCENE.

Scene Two: At the New House, My Little One is playing happily on the living room floor with her Little People Zoo. I hear her squealing with delight as I am taking a much needed potty break. ~~ Out-of-place background information: my mom is here with her two dogs. ~~ So, Mom is scrubbing the linoleum in the laundry room (a.k.a. former owner's super stinky urine-soaked kitty litter box room-thingie -- yet another reason I strongly dislike cats). Hubby is doing I don't know what when suddenly I hear, "eeeewww YUCK!! Little One, don't do that! Don't eat the dog food!" When I get there, I want to tell you -- she had a goodly amount of food in that mouth of hers. It was so freaking grossly disgustingly nasty. She was fussing at us as we are digging our dirty fingers in her mouth retrieving the vienna-sausage-like goo out of her toothless mouth. For the life of us, we could not get her to take a swig of water. Okay. THIS TIME, I learned my lesson. On the baby shift-work. and SCENE.

Moving is just great with an eight month old.

Whoosh!

Oh -- Me gusto Automatica Grammatica!! Cowboys keep on truckin'!!