An Exercise.

Why is it, that no matter what agents I use or how many times I clean it, the toilet ALWAYS smells like pee?

Kind of like how no matter how many times I stick the pacifier back in TWO’s mouth, he spits it out and then cries for it back. Over and over. 

These are the constants in my life: crying and a persistent pee smell. It’s an exercise in patience and long suffering, which leaves me to wonder … will I make it? Can I persist even longer than that damn smell?!?

Now I understand how so many women get bogged down in the doldrums of motherhood and wifedom. It’s relentless. The demands never cease. This is why I put a child proof knob cover on the doors to my bedroom, my closet, and my bathroom. They might all be down here killing each other — or maybe ONE will simply smother TWO with a blanket and Husband won’t notice because he’s playing a video game — but I do have somewhere to hide if needed. 

And when I come out … I WILL END YOU, PEE ODOR. Your days are numbered.

The Messiest Man in America.

My husband ate one of these cookies last night.  

I didn’t make them. My mother-in-law did, with the help of ONE. I like the fact that they have handles.

So he ate a handled cookie, and somehow managed to drop icing on the kitchen rug, grind it in so deep with his feet that I had to wash said rug in the washing machine to get it out, and then he tracked the aforementioned icing all over the first floor of our house. 

I think the tracking actually took place this morning, after he was ready for work. In fact, Husband, if you are reading this, why don’t you take a look at the bottom of your shoes?

I’m not mad at him. But only because it’s white icing. This same exact thing happened once before, but it involved red sprinkles that were all over the carpet around the couch. Now THAT was a bitch to clean up.  

I may have had to stop one of my children from eating the icing out of the carpet. Both times.

From The Trenches.

Hello. I feel like I am in boot camp.

It’s funny how you forget certain things about having an infant, until you have another one, and then you’re like ohhhhhh … yeah. THIS. I forgot about THIS.

Husband and I have been on our own with ONE and TWO since approximately one hour after we came home from the hospital. He will go back to work on Monday, but don’t worry — my mom is coming to help, and then hopefully my mother-in-law. I have an immense fear of being outnumbered and I am taking strides to avoid it until I have at least physically somewhat recovered from birthing a baby. That takes a lot out of you.

I would like to state here that while Husband has gotten on my nerves APLENTY since we have been home, and there has been some yelling (me), and tears (me again), I do appreciate him and everything he has done. I understand that most straight men are somewhat uncomfortable in a domestic type role and taking care of the caretaker in the family probably seems … odd.

Every day things have gotten a tiny bit better and although I still have a valid fear that ONE is going to haul off and do something absolutely crazy like pick the baby up and carry him up the stairs … and hide him in a closet … I do feel confident that one day soon we will be an adjusted family of four.  

Also, I no longer look pregnant. I just look fat.