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Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Operation Meltdown

Wow. Just, wow. Today was one of those days that further confirms why I will never be a stay-at-home mom. Ever. Granted, it's all the result of a 9-inch square of fabric that is, apparently, irreplaceable.

You see, Atticus received a wonderful security blanket upon his arrival into this cruel, cruel world and he's spent the last 12 months growing rather attached to it. He doesn't sleep, eat, ride in the car, poop, or do anything without said blankie. As a result, we've been great at keeping track of the damn thing. We won't leave anywhere without first asking each other, "do we have the blankie?" So imagine my surprise when suddenly, WITHOUT LEAVING THE HOUSE, it disappeared. Really. As in, poof, it's gone. I've never looked so hard for anything in my life . The couch was ripped apart, the living rendered a disaster zone, but still no blankie. The most infuriating thing is that it must. be. here. somewhere. My only theories are as follows:

1. Someone who hates me and wished me ill came in here during Atticus' morning nap and ripped it from his adoreable little sleeping fingers (in which case I WILL find you)

2. The dog dragged it into the yard where he ripped it to shreds and then swallowed all evidence.

I know, reader…the solution seems obvious given the above options, but based on the dog's previous behavior around the baby's things, I actually think the first theory is more plausible.
So after listening to an inconsolable youngun' cry for two hours straight while I tore the house apart, I decided it was time to go buy another one. I did a little research, saw that Nordstrom's is the only store that carries the brand of blankie we need, and made a plan to head that direction, though not before slamming my finger in the door on my way out (I think it may be broken, but that's another story). After crossing town in rush hour traffic, turns out the blankie in question is no longer made, and the replacement just isn't good enough for our finicky little man. It's currently two hours past bedtime and he's still screaming.

Moral: have lots of booze on hand for blankie-loss-related meltdown. LOTS of booze. 

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