The last time I posted was Wednesday? WEDNESDAY!?
You'd think I've been busy or something. Obviously I'm not. I'm a stay-at-home-mom with only three kids. It's not like I have much to do.
...
.. Teehee. I'm giggling just thinking about saying that out loud. I think I'll try that today at playgroup. See how many people try to kill me with their death stares.
Anyway, I'm alive. In fact, I'm so alive that I've been emerging from my brick-front, semi-detached cocoon and joining people on walks, in warm beverages at organic coffee houses and on shopping excurions. I even went out with Geekster to look at larger cocoons. More about that later today when I have the thought to put it into words.
I'm exhausted. Teething babies SUCK. Why didn't anyone tell me this? It's not like I've been through this before; the older two were born with all their teeth and a steak in each hand.
Or were those my kidneys?
Had I completely erased the painful memories of growing white lumps in the mouth? How every evening is a nightmare of screaming, inconsolable misery? When my boys realize, for the first time in a man's life, that breasts do not solve all the world's problems? How The Maven releases her frustrations in strange ways, like removing pillows from her path and hurling them ferociously at unsuspecting walls?
Then the beast settles at 10pm and, spent from the screaming, The Maven crawls onto the couch with a bowl of cereal and watches Grey's Anatomy or some other pointless drama that is far too addictive for her liking. And she stays up until at least 1 so she can savour special, precious, highly coveted 'mommy time' - enough of it that she will feel she's had a bit of a break.
Then Spawnling wakes up whining and nursing and pulling off and yelling and crying and fussing and nursing and taking his soother and spitting it back out and rolling and whacking his mom in the face and clawing at her stomach and kicking her thighs and...
And seven in the morning comes way, WAY too soon.
Must go get ready for I-hate-school and playgroup. I will post more later, once I've had coffee.
You should be damn impressed that I haven't had any coffee and still managed to write legibly. More proof of my awe-inspiring resilience.
But you should see my clothes. I put them on half an hour ago when my eyes were still half closed. Pink tank tops don't go well with white and blue hoodies. Oh, what was I thinking? Sleep deprivation strikes in more subtle ways, sometimes. I have new shoes, a new coat and a matching bag to tie them both together. I have no right to destroy that with poor clothing selection.
You'd think I've been busy or something. Obviously I'm not. I'm a stay-at-home-mom with only three kids. It's not like I have much to do.
...
.. Teehee. I'm giggling just thinking about saying that out loud. I think I'll try that today at playgroup. See how many people try to kill me with their death stares.
Anyway, I'm alive. In fact, I'm so alive that I've been emerging from my brick-front, semi-detached cocoon and joining people on walks, in warm beverages at organic coffee houses and on shopping excurions. I even went out with Geekster to look at larger cocoons. More about that later today when I have the thought to put it into words.
I'm exhausted. Teething babies SUCK. Why didn't anyone tell me this? It's not like I've been through this before; the older two were born with all their teeth and a steak in each hand.
Or were those my kidneys?
Had I completely erased the painful memories of growing white lumps in the mouth? How every evening is a nightmare of screaming, inconsolable misery? When my boys realize, for the first time in a man's life, that breasts do not solve all the world's problems? How The Maven releases her frustrations in strange ways, like removing pillows from her path and hurling them ferociously at unsuspecting walls?
Then the beast settles at 10pm and, spent from the screaming, The Maven crawls onto the couch with a bowl of cereal and watches Grey's Anatomy or some other pointless drama that is far too addictive for her liking. And she stays up until at least 1 so she can savour special, precious, highly coveted 'mommy time' - enough of it that she will feel she's had a bit of a break.
Then Spawnling wakes up whining and nursing and pulling off and yelling and crying and fussing and nursing and taking his soother and spitting it back out and rolling and whacking his mom in the face and clawing at her stomach and kicking her thighs and...
And seven in the morning comes way, WAY too soon.
Must go get ready for I-hate-school and playgroup. I will post more later, once I've had coffee.
You should be damn impressed that I haven't had any coffee and still managed to write legibly. More proof of my awe-inspiring resilience.
But you should see my clothes. I put them on half an hour ago when my eyes were still half closed. Pink tank tops don't go well with white and blue hoodies. Oh, what was I thinking? Sleep deprivation strikes in more subtle ways, sometimes. I have new shoes, a new coat and a matching bag to tie them both together. I have no right to destroy that with poor clothing selection.