I have this post in progress sitting here called “We Don’t Even Recycle” and I haven’t the faintest clue what I was going to write about. But since it’s attention grabbing and completely reflective of how my days have been going lately (aka never having the faintest clue about anything anymore) I will leave it be.
Lately life has been exhaustingly interesting which has become our new typical. Does that make sense? So now our “typical” around here consists of at least one child waking numerous times in the night for water, covers to be put back on, or to nurse. And then the one that somehow weasels their way into our bed gets dibs on kicking Mommy in the head from 6am-8am. Typical is kids chewing up apples & spitting them out at each other under the argument of having a “snowball fight”. Or playing light sabers with our mop & broom. Or even better, dumping out the box of Rice Chex on our rug and crushing them to smithereens. Come to think of it, there was one occasion with the light sabers that also involved a bouncy ball which nearly landed right in our soup pot boiling on the stove. I think I actually remember my blood pressure increasing. Good times.
Typical now is Jack standing at our living room window decked out in his sister’s princess crown, wand and heels…watching the neighborhood kids skateboard (“Honey, step back from the window, pleeeeease!”) It’s picking up watermelon off the kitchen floor, right after you mopped it. And having to use windex to get the layers of pancake syrup off the dining room table. Or being followed around the house by a toddler who’s discovered how to give a flat tire. How about this one? Peeling pieces of paper off furniture that the kids discovered they could make stick by licking it first. Do you have any idea how awful that smells?
Things like desperate negotiations to finish a meal, fake dirty diaper changes (“You said you pooped!” “Oops. I just farted”) or explaining for the hundreth time that no, I can’t nurse your stuffed puppy dog have become the day to day norm. Not being able to remember what we did two hours ago is also normal o rmaybe it’s just nature blacking out memorable moments like fingerpainting with yogurt. And being bombarded with wet willies each time I squat down to pick up toys. Yes sir, this post is straight out of my postpartum brain. Disheveled, confused, incoherent and forgetful. Oh and the best part? It’s true: we don’t recycle.