That's it. I'm Totally Wearing a Band-Aid on My Jawline.

So y'all remember how I was just talking about my skin and how I feel like I have been hit with the hormones of a 13 year old--well, except for being older and with the occasional gray hair that makes its way onto my head {which fyi? I pull  that sucker out. I don't care if two grow in its place--I'll totally pull that one out, too}.

Anyways, back to the story at hand. I'm sitting on the loveseat feeding Miss Madelyn. Isabella was snuggling on me, giving me hugs, tons of kisses. I couldn't believe my good fortune--instead of hitting, getting hit by thrown objects or an occasional bite I was getting love and attention!

Then she starts looking at my jaw. Which just happens to be where the dreaded "p" word is. I'm hoping she doesn't see it. The thing causing me pain to just think about. {It hurts. Badly. Because not only do I have a pimple, but it's a painful one. Shoot me now...}

She looks at me with love and concern in her eyes and says....

"Oh, Mommy, owie. Me get you Dowah {Dora} Ban-Aid."


I looked at her. Told her thank you.


And cursed the pimple Gods above me.


Disclaimer: this may or may not have been a wonderful excuse to go eat fajitas and margaritas tonite...hey--if I have a pimple I may as well be happy off a couple of 'ritas, right?