Considering I haven't chronicled my parenting faux pas since September 2008 you could be forgiven for thinking that either,
a. I have obviously learned from my mistakes and reached new supreme levels of parenting,
or b. I was just too lazy to blog about what a failure I am.
I know what you're thinking.......
It has to be B.
And you'd be right.
Here is a sterling example of how I haven't come any closer to achieving Super-Parent status.
I was 37 weeks pregnant.
We went to get the few (mostly pink) things left on our baby list.
Me, Rob, Thomas, Eli.
We lost Eli.
It turns out buying tiny pink clothing doesn't excite Eli.
He wandered off.
I ran the length of the place in my heavily pregnant state dragging a 4 year old in flip flops behind me. (Do you have any idea how hard it is for a 4 year old to sprint in flip flops? Or how amusing a 37 weeks pregnant woman looks running?)
After the longest phone conversation known to man between the customer services lady and the head of security it was confirmed he'd been located.
I nearly squeezed the life out of him.
And sadly it was in that moment that I realised that if that recipe of shock, panic and trauma coupled with the fastest running of my life didn't manage to dislodge that baby from my uterus then she was never gonna come out without being evicted.