I Need An Assistant.

 Here are some of the people who watched me incorrectly eat a tamale.

I need someone to follow me around and assist me with LIFE, because I seem to be incapable of functioning at full capacity.

Like just now, when I opened our storage closet outside to get a beach ball out and somehow accidentally turned on the air compressor and freaked out and called Husband repeatedly (no answer … GOOD THING I’M NOT IN LABOR) before realizing the mayhem would stop if I just unplugged it from the wall.

Also: the tamale. Before Saturday, I’d never eaten a real tamale before. I don’t know how that’s possible, but it is what it is. I didn’t realize you have to unwrap it from the corn husk before you eat it … I mean … they look just like burritos. So I was eating a lovely lunch this weekend with my fellow alumni and their families when I took a great big bite out of my tamale and discovered too late that the corn husk is not … biteable. And once you bite in, there is no ladylike way to deal with the situation. 

Also: the slide. Last week, I tried to be adventurous and take the boys to a park by myself. It was going well until TWO followed his big brother to the very top of the play set, a good 12 feet up in the air, and was standing on the top of a platform looking over the edge like he was thinking about jumping. Bigger kids were running all over the place and I just knew one of them would knock him down and he was going to break something.

I didn’t think any of this through before I climbed up to where he was, squeeeeeeeeeeezed through the opening with my huge belly, and picked him up. The only way down was via slide. So down all three of us went. A little girl was standing at the bottom and I yelled at her MOVE!!! We can’t stop!” before we landed in a pile. I’m sure it was quite a spectacle, there were people everywhere but I was so stressed out from the ordeal that I was oblivious to the stares.

Never. Again.

In the past few weeks I have: screwed up our bank account, mismanaged multiple situations, called my children by the wrong names, and scheduled the delivery of the boy’s new bedroom furniture for tomorrow … not thinking about the fact that we still haven’t gotten the OLD furniture out yet. A queen-sized bed and huge armoire aren’t going to move themselves. I don’t know what I was thinking, but we have no choice but to press on. 

Tonight will be the first night that the boys will share a room — this was unplanned. We still don’t have mattresses for the twin beds that are arriving tomorrow. Until we can procure some, ONE will sleep in the toddler bed that his little brother rejected, and TWO will remain in his Pack N’ Play. Husband will have to disassemble ONE’s old bedroom furniture when he gets home from work, and I have no idea how he will get it out of the house. Good luck to him. 

I’m fairly certain from this point on, with the boys sharing a room, no one will be getting enough sleep. I normally do not operate in this helter-skelter kind of way. This is not who I am! Luckily, this weekend my friend Melody brought me something called Natural Calm. You mix it with water. It’s safe for pregnancy and I hope it will help me cope with life, because what I really need is an assistant and some Prozac.

Please make me calm.

 

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