Today was a long one. Actually, they've all been long ones since the baby started crawling. Too tired to write this post in full, coherent sentences.
Woke up to dog farting noxious fumes at the end of the bed. Or was it Nick? I don't remember...
Carried three squirmy kids downstairs for breakfast.
Good morning coffee maker, the children's lives depend on you- do not let me down.
Take too long goofing on my phone, now I have to hustle to get Noëlle ready for school.
Bribe Dryden to pee in the toilet. Hold new Hot Wheels truck for ransom pending poop.
Put up all baby gates, close all French doors before releasing baby from the clutches of the Evil High Chair (or so she must think it is by the way she screams while in it.)
Me: "what is Raegan chewing on?"
Nick: *fishes a giant, dead bug out of her mouth while she grins like a fool*
Me: throws up in my mouth a little
Break up the 18th fight of the morning between Dryden and the other three year old I'm watching.
Thankful Dryden doesn't have a twin.
Put supper in the crock pot.
Chug tepid coffee.
Round #1 of Time Outs.
Sprint across the house, diving to catch Raegan before she tumbles down the toy room stairs.
"Good catch Momma! You runned fast!"- Dryden
Make lunch that only the dog thinks is delicious.
Go pee. Dryden knocks on the door the moment it closes. "Can I please have 23 seconds of privacy?!" I yelled.
"okaaayyy Momma, but baby has Kuku's nummies in her mouff."
Translation: Raegan is eating dog food.
Pick up dog food/water. He now dines at nap time and after 8pm. He'll adjust.
Nap time. *Halleluia* (insert heavenly singing and harp music here.)
Noëlle comes into the living room carrying the largest meat cleaver I have ever seen. Why do we even have that? It's not like we butcher our own cattle...
Accidentally launch baby off my lap in my haste to get to Noëlle/weapon of death.
Dog catches baby. Earns himself a treat.
Note to self: we need a lock for the knife drawer...
Break up fight #whofuckingknows. Make popcorn and put on "Max And Ruby" to keep the peace.
Pour myself a giant glass of Pepsi.
Take out craft stuff that NO ONE wants to use.
Color by myself.
Pull something vital in my lower back bending to pick up a plastic hot dog. Waddle over to the couch.
Smell like A535 for the next ten hours.
Discover that I forgot to plug the crock pot in this morning.
Curse. Loudly. Shake fist in the air.
Order wings, onion rings, and poutin. Everyone loves supper...
Bath time (this is a "Daddy job". I don't know why I thought I was as capable...)
Bath time cut short by floating poop.
Wash tub. Re-wash kids. Light a really strong candle.
Tuck three sleepy, lavender smelling babes in bed.
Pour another glass of Pepsi.
Blog while Saku farts at my feet...