My Kids Are Trying To Kill Me.

I think the word “smug” perfectly describes my former, one-child self. So I plan to continue using it.

I never understood women who allowed themselves to go without showering or basic hygiene because they were too busy with their children. I never got why some moms looked like train wrecks all the time. Did they just not care anymore? Is that what happens once you become mommyfied? It seemed to me a horrible mystery that I didn’t care to solve. It was actually one of my very worst fears after having ONE that I would become permanently wrecked and incapable of doing simple tasks like shaving my armpits. 

As it turned out, I did manage to uphold a low standard of decency … but only because I had one kid. I showered and primped while he slept. I SLEPT when he slept. It wasn’t that bad, really. I didn’t see what all the fuss was about. I stupidly assumed I could handle a second child without too much of a problem and here I am now, with two kids, drowning.

On a related note, I secured birth control yesterday. But I’m not sure if “99% effective” is quite effective enough for my liking. Quite frankly, the mere thought of the possibility of having another child at this point HORRIFIES me. Husband just may be out of luck.

You may be wondering how it is that I find the time to blog about how I never have time to do a damn thing. You see, writing about how my kids may be conspiring to kill me makes me feel much more sane. So I am happy to let one of them scream furiously for a few minutes while I do this. It’s either that, or someone gets locked outside.

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