I have been working full time again for the last month.
This means my brain is even more like mush than usual. Which is why I haven't been blogging very reliably.
Don't get me wrong, funny things still happen at our house, and when they do I think,
"Hey! That was a funny parenting moment! I should remember to write that down later!"
And then I have to find the bra that still fits the lactating ladies, which is buried under the endless swathes of clean and/or dirty fabric that replicates across the floor of my bedroom daily, change Thing 1's diaper because apparently Tyrant Daddy has the plague and can't touch her or she will die instantly, and convince her that pants really are a good idea when you live in Minnesota in February. Then I put on a clean shirt and a sweater, find my shoes and get ready to leave, and realize that Thing 2 has awoken and is famished and needs to be fed. So I nurse her in that very unsexy "sorta-half-naked-from-the-waist-up" way that nursing mothers have developed to gain maximum nipple access with minimum clothing removal. Totally hawt.
Off to work I go, where I let myself forget for a few hours that I even HAVE children so that I can fill reports and count money and deal with customers and stare at the beautiful beige walls of my cubicle. I try to sneak out 10 minutes early so I can rush to the grocery store because SOMEHOW my kitchen is never quite stocked and there is always at least one thing to buy to get us through the night. And then I am home again, where I throw of my coat and scoop up my girls (and let Tyrant Daddy blow of steam and kill aliens and Sith Lords in a galaxy far, far away...). I wash off the germs of the public and try to forget for a few hours that I even HAVE a job, and pretend that I am just a Mom and read a few books and wipe a few tears, and try to really focus when Thing 1 tells me about the advenutres that the terradactyl was having with her popsicles. And then somehow it is 7:30 and we realize we should feed the child.
"Who is making dinner?"
"I don't know. What do you want?"
"I don't care. We could order out...No. We are poor. Can you make rice and chicken?"
"Ok. I will in a minute....." (sound of light sabers clashing )
"Maybe we should just make noodles for Thing 1 and we can eat later."
"Yeah, that works..."
By then Thing 2 is hitting what we refer to as "The Snoofy Hour", which means she is tired and cranky and frustrated with her lack of vocal cord control. So I am on Thing 2 patrol, Tyrant Daddy or Nauntie is sitting with Thing 1 coaxing her to eat since she believes she can subsist on Apple Juice, Noodles, and Air. We try to get in a bath so that our very active sweaty toddler still smells like a sweet baby. After she goes to bed I bounce Thing 2 to sleep and watch old TV reruns, and the house is finally quiet.
Of course, by then I have lactation paralysis and am totally exhausted. And I sit and stare at my computer across the room and think,
"Funny! Thing! Blog!.........Maybe I'll remember tomorrow....."