Big weekend in Yaskoland coming up. My mom flew in from Houston this evening, and Kami's mom flies in later tonight, as it's Baby Shower weekend. Which feels weird, because you're basically sending invitations for people to buy you gifts. Don't get me wrong, I'll take it, but I feel pretty strange about the whole process.
So anyway, a lady that works with my mom was gracious enough to send a gift, which arrived today. We opened it, and it was the chocolate Baby Bjorn carrier thing. I could barely contain my excitement, as I was pretty jazzed up about it when registering for all the stuff.
I immediately put it on, except I had some trouble with the straps. See, I had a New Year's Resolution to lose 25 pounds that, unless I get a leg blown off in a random act of hillbilly separatist violence, isn't going to happen (in fairness to me: I've been trying, it's just that the new mattress is so comfortable, and Kami keeps putting ice cream in my hand. Well, in a cup, but she hands it to me.)
So I put it on, and had some trouble with it, because I did not realize that Baby Bjorn was a literal name. As in, only a 5'4", 120lb Swede named Bjorn could put it on and have room for anything but a postcard from Puerto Rico. Honestly, if I put Emsley in the Baby Bjorn as it was, it would look like someone squeezed a styrofoam cup of jello from the bottom. I grew despondent, and angry. This is America, dadgummit. Doesn't freaking skinny Bjorn know that we do things big here? Screw that guy. And his low-carb diet. And his lack of awareness of things like Chick-Fil-A's Spicy Chicken Sandwich.
Then I found out that I was using the Female Straps. So I used the Man Straps, and things worked out better. But for about six minutes, I was ready to declare war on Sweden. And Bjorn.
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