I had a bad night and morning. Connor woke up three times in the night due to growing pains in his feet. I remember getting those and they suck balls. I also remember that they felt slightly better when I massaged them, so I massaged Connor's feet until he fell back asleep. Five hours of broken sleep rocks. Like I napped all night. I love naps. During the day.
Then, in the morning, I discovered that Brandon's diaper had exploded. Like, the little absorbent crystals that absorb, you know, pee, had basically projectile vomited out of the top of his diaper. When I unzipped his sleeper pjs, he was covered in them, from his little baby nipples to his toes. He looked like he had some kind of futuristic fungus all over his body. Such a fun mess. But, at least it wasn't poo. It could have been worse.
I also cannot find the remote for the
babysitter television and I feel like I am getting sick. The boys drove me nuts yesterday and this morning, absolutely nuts. I want to go crawl into a hole and sleep, and then screw around on Pinterest, looking at all the gorgeous things to remind me of the beauty in the world, and funny things to make me laugh because laughter is the best medicine - next to peace and quiet - and then go escape somewhere with my husband, so we can both just recharge.
But I can't, because we have other things we must do. Like, Brandon just walked right by me and I can smell what my next task is. I'm stinking serious.
Usually, it's tough for me to remember this, but today, my defenses are low and my hormones are probably high, and the whole "it could be worse" mantra keeps running through my mind. I'm complaining about lack of sleep, malfunctioning diapers, and the like, but deep down, I know I don't have it so bad. After all, we could be this family:
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