Time to Tame Lions

I’m shopping for velvet pants and a topcoat with tails. I am a ringmaster, and a ringmaster of my caliber needs a uniform that commands respect.  For the first act of my personal three-ring circus, I successfully packed a three-year old and a three-week old for a three-day trip to my hometown. Deep sea fishing could not require more equipment. We took 57 cars, 2 balls, a case of Huggies, a fistful of Huggies overnights (sized to fit a large dog or small toddler), swim Huggies (in case we decided to visit my favorite family dressing room at the YMCA), 5 hair bows (because GiGi might change her mind and want to wear lavender instead of pink),  and of course, Fluffy--RJ’s blankie.  The magic of Act I is in the fact that I managed to forget the one bag containing (1) things I need as a nursing mom; and (2) GiGi’s anti-gas Mylicon--which stops crying like nothing else--and both I and GiGi survived.  I keep a case of Mylicon on hand in my hometown and at home. RJ is an addict. He asks for it by name. It's disturbing.

For Act II, I survived night number 20 (20!) with GiGi feeding every two hours. And I didn’t skip changing her pants once. Hence, magic again--her raging diaper rash has reached a pleasant pink rather than angry red. As RJ says, “She don’t cry no more!” She doesn’t. She stares at me wide-eyed and wavy armed when I change her pants. And sometimes she clearly thinks I get too personal. But she doesn’t cry. 

And so, for my final act, I plan to tame lions. I therefore must have the velvet pants and topcoat. I will be successful in my lion taming venture. I know this because I have already tamed a wolverine. My beautiful, sweet, precious little girl is a wolverine. Hungry, she bangs her head on my shoulder and attempts to chew my collar bone off my body.  She eats every two hours. At least. She is a wolverine in pink party pants. I have tamed her. She is sleeping (in pink party pants). So, tonight I will shop for my velvet pants, and tomorrow I will learn to tame lions. I am sure to be a success.