This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

Since James was born my way of thinking about things has completely changed.  And while I could tell you about all the goofy things Eddie and I do just to get one little smile out of James or the time that I cried while watching the movie “Cars” (those little cars worked so hard only to have all the I-40 travelers pass right on by their town), I will spare you the sappiness.   You see, the changes have been subtle – making sure we have milk instead of beer in the fridge before leaving to buy groceries (Who am I kidding?  Beer is still on the list too…just in a slightly smaller quantity to make room for the milk) or instead of hitting the snooze button a million times I now set the alarm 30 minutes early so I have enough time to get James to daycare and myself to work on time (okay…I still hit the snooze button but then I definitely bust my butt to get through the rest of my morning routine in an attempt to still get out the door on time – cursing the snooze button the whole way to work).  While I’ve come to accept that fact I will stumble over a toy or find myself humming Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to myself at least once every day, the ultimate “my kid has changed me” epiphany came tonight when I walked into the house sorting throught the mail and automatically tossed the PotteryBarn and WilliamSonoma holiday catalogs right into the trash.  I turned around for a second, peered into the trashcan – just to see what the front cover looked like – then moved on.  Why was that simple act such a revolution?   It was at this moment I realized that, at least until James chooses somewhat less clumsy and slightly more graceful lifestyle, the Foy Family cannot have nice things.

This is why we can’t have Nice Things

Like Ceramic Plates...

Because they break.

Or toilet paper...

Because it rolls (and rolls and rolls).

And of course clothes...

Because Spaghetti Sauce stains EVERYTHING!



Including faces.