Toddlaerobics.

Sometimes, people read celebrity gossip sites like Perez Hilton (despite the fact that he is a hypocrite and a horrible human being), and sometimes these blogs, so I am told, feature anorexic-looking celebrity moms, who apparently poo-poo the notion that they're anorexic and just say, "I have children! That's how I stay trim! Chasing after them!"

I have never been to such sites, because I am a serious journalist, but I know if I were to go to those sites, and if I stumbled upon such a statement by a celebrity whose personal life I know nothing of... oh, say, Posh Spice, aka Victoria Beckham.... I'd probably have rolled my eyes at them and declared, "What a load of shit. It's coke and anorexia! DUH!"

Yeah. Um. Apparently it's pretty true. Because having a toddler? Fucking exhausting, dude.

I had a brief conversation with another young first-time mom in the Wal-Mart check-out line today, her angelic 6-month-old sitting serenely in the car carrier seat, our conversation broken up every 40 seconds by my child pulling all of the magazines out of the rack. Then, as I bent down to pick everything up, took off running across Wal-Mart like she was being chased by El Chupacabra. Then thrashing angrily as I tried to detain her with my withering, exhausted arms.

I remember when Punky was at that stage. Sitting in her car carrier, batting away at whatever random toy I'd managed to strap onto the handle. Contained. Immobile. And A. and I would watch her and dote on her, and dream of how wonderful and magical it would be once she could walk!

Uhhh... yeah. We were retarded.

It seems like a novel idea til you have to chase your child out of the Chipotle kitchen, when you swear to god you just let go of her hand long enough to get your wallet out of your purse because for the love of christ, kid, mommy just wants a fucking chicken taco OKAY? Not so fun anymore when in the blink of an eye, she tears across the front yard into the street while you're fishing for car keys.

And in a new and super addition to her Mobility, Self-Mutiliation and Death Initiative, she's learned to climb up onto the furniture. Cute and fun when she's on the couch, sipping on her Sippy Cup and watching TV peacefully. Not so much when she figures out how to get onto the glider rocker and then decides to STAND UP. I started up a pool among my friends as to just how soon she'd manage to injure herself with that new trick. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm actually a pretty attentive parent, but there comes a point where you have to let go and let Darwin.


Congratulations to Kellie, by the way, who won the pool with her Tuesday entry. Glad to see someone can make financial gain on my child's suffering. Really, I'm like a minor-league Kate Gosselin. (Oh no she didn't! Oh I did, I just did.)

Combined, my Plague and Toddler Diet has resulted in almost 20 lbs. lost since early May. I guess I should change the name of the diet, though, so as to not convey the false idea of eating plagues and toddlers. That's just ridiculous. You can't eat a plague.