Anyway, this one is of me heading out for another uninvited babysitting
stint with my newborn grand-daughter. It just screams
"maternal instincts," doesn't it? She's not my first grandchild, but my
eldest daughter took one look at my blog when it launched a year and a
half ago and said “Please refrain from ever telling anyone we’re
related,” so naturally I respect her wishes. Thusly.
And although I’ve been doing this granny thing for awhile, having a
third baby has really fired up my mothering urges. I’ve been cooking
and cleaning
like a maniac and taking special care with my wardrobe. Because in my
world, a world in which gossip is a career, men are mere playthings and
time is marked by the number of empties in the recycling bin … “Crap!
It’s six mickeys past Merlot! I’d better get
a move on!” … grandmothers don’t look like Mother Teresa, they look like Cher. (Try telling her to grow up; I dare you.)
So
while I lecture my daughter about the importance of not worrying about
losing the baby weight or stuffing one's self into the pre-baby skinny jeans, I parade
around looking
like this. You all should be very glad I’m not your mother. Although I
might have had a go at your father. You never know. I can’t keep track
of these things but I can tell you this: if he was cute, young and rich, you should be worried. Or even if he was just cute.
EDITOR'S NOTE: Look, your grand-daughter is adorable and all, but if you keep this up you're going to have to rebrand yourself as a mommy blogger.MY NOTE: Well I'm not her mommy and also I drink. A helluva lot. So if there's such a thing as a hooch-swilling nanny blog then sure, brand me. Why the hell not?
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