All day I have been thinking about my blog, anxious to post. Even though I wasn’t sure what to write about. I kept waiting to be able to sit down and see where the page would take me. Just an hour of absolute quiet in the house, a spicy chai latte and the sunshine coming through our living room window. But that stolen hour never came today. And now this girl is beat.

Because this morning – while Dean cheered on the 49’ers in the playoffs in the city, I was chasing my runningback Milo down the halls of Babies R Us. If there is one store where people can’t give me the stink-eye when Milo smashes into their cart, or pulls crap off of shelves, this has to be it.

All was fine, until the creepy professor dad in white knee-high sport socks and cargo shorts sidled up next to us at the toy cars. That holier than thou, I’ve got my kid under control look. While Milo, my Godzilla toddler wedged himself in a mini convertible police SUV then refused to disembark when ordered to. And so ensued a string of outbursts ending with his limbs going rigamortis on the astroturf platform. Then again onto the dirty linoleum floor.

You can imagine what came next. I forget why I originally went to Toys R Us/Babies R Us in the first place (oh yeah, to look for toddler bedding) – needless to say, this never happened.

Then upon putting what should have been an exhausted boy to bed for his nap – a new game of violent Twister occurred, right before he spider-monkey’d his way over the two tall chairs in front of his toddler bed. So that rendered utterly useless. And so we are napless. And crazy. And that’s just a couple setbacks today out of 10.

So finally, here I am now chillin’:

I swear this kid has aged me by an extra 50 years just in these last few months.

But if I made sidetrack for a bit – let our eyes feast on this fashion foray above. Pink poly pants, mod paisley cut-off tunic, turquoise earrings and flapper headband. Seriously, how dope is she? Let’s not forget the Seinfeld sneakers. And please don’t forget the stash of stogis. Because when I’m really up there in age, I am totally gonna rock that shit too, from all my favorite decades. All at once.

I had no idea where I was going with this post, but what the hell – that’s the fun of it sometimes.

So we’ve landed in a bizarre golden dream, and I can feel the arthritis creeping into my fingers. (No ma, it’s not from drinking Diet Coke.)

On that note, I’ll pass you the geriatric halo and bid you good night.