Jena: poo poo. look daddy.
*bends over and pull her diaper out*
Neil: get your hands out of your pants!
Jena: I stinky daddy. smells.
*sniffs her nose like a bunny*
Neil: whew! you do stink!
*Jena and Grant burst into giggles* It’s like they staged it.
So we’re at my in-laws for the holidays. They’ve got a big house, which will be nice in the future when my kids are older and less prone to hurting each other when out of ear shot.
Yesterday, Neil and I were in one of the bedrooms checking something on the computer when we heard a blood curdling scream from the other part of the house. I run out to the kitchen and see Grant curled into the fetal position on the floor. The following conversation ensued.
Me: Grant! Are you ok? What happened? What hurts?
Grant: POO POO! POO POO COMING MOMMY!
I frantically pick him up, trying to get him to run to the bathroom.
Me: can u walk? put your feet down?
Grant: POO POO! POO POO!
So I carry him to the bathroom, pull his pants down, and sit him on the potty.
Me: did we make it? are you ok now?
Grant: Yes, I’m ok. NOW GO AWAY MOMMY!
This the child that runs around the house playing light saber with his penis after he’s gone to the bathroom, and all of a sudden he’s to modest to go when I’m in sight. Whatever, it was probably better I not laugh my head off in front of him anyway.
As my early years of motherhood have taught me there are days, and then THERE ARE DAYS.
I know I haven’t even updated you all on my trip or the fiasco of a return that I had a totally positive attitude about until today. I’m still tired recovering from what should have been less than 8 hours of travel turning into a 28 hour fiasco, coming home from a FUNERAL. I just find out not only has my grandpa just lost his wife of 60+ years he also has a punctured lung and three cracked ribs that were missed last WEEK when he was taken to the doctor’s after his fall. So I sit there at my desk, having just gotten in and guess what Jacob does? I’m sure you already know.
It’s everywhere. All over his adorable outfit, all over the sling, all over the blanket. The pants were salvageable, the shirt not so much. Let’s hope it comes out of the sling as I’d rather not have the constant reminder everyday for the next year…the changing pad, yuck. But don’t worry I still have mountains of laundry left to do in the next TWO days, I’ll just throw it in there!
Did I mention that I threw his burp cloths in the wash last night and forgot to get them out of the dryer this morning? I also forgot nursing pads…this shall be interesting. But at least I remembered more diapers! Have to hold on to the little things…
Meanwhile my head is still a fog and all I want to do is crawl in bed and finally cry over my Grandma and then go to sleep till it’s all better. But I’m at work and Christmas is 8 days away. There’s 4 Christmases to plan for and pack for and wash for and shop for and SOME THING’S GOTTA GIVE!
Dear Santa,
I’m sorry I don’t believe in you anymore, but if you can forgive that I’d really just like to sleep for a week. Maybe the elves can watch my children, and Mrs. Clause can do the laundry….just a suggestion though. I really don’t care how you make it happen as long as they’re all alive still when I wake up.
That’s all. Thank you.
Sincerely,
so flippin tired
