Yup, there I am with my baby dolls again. I can see Hooper’s little mischievous face in my own. That rascal. Think my haircut is cool? Yeah, me too (not being sarcastic at all, wink wink). Onto the tidbits…

I used to brush my teeth, slap on some chapstick, and go to bed. Now I wash my pump stuff for the morning, brush my teeth, slap on some chapstick, and turn on my baby monitors. Yes, monitors is pleural.

Woman are the superior sex. They just are. I never had such admiration for other woman until I became a mom. I used to view men as the king of the households, the warriors, the caretakers. But now I realize woman are the Kings and men are the princesses. And after giving birth, I’m pretty sure all moms are warriors. And I won’t even touch on the caretaker role, because we all know who fills those shoes. So in an attempt to remind mi amor of his manliness, I pretend to be impressed with how he can sit through the pain while being tattooed. And when he suggests that I could never handle the pain, I laugh with visions of two nine pound babies exiting my vagina with no pain medication and say, “ya, probably not”.

Just the other day I was giving the boys an afternoon bath and started to question why I was hungry. My first thought was this: it’s 4 o’clock, past lunch time… What’s wrong with me? My second thought was this: Oh my god, I forgot to make myself lunch. My thrid and final thought was this: It sure sucks we have to take time out of the day to eat. I could get a whole lot more done if I didn’t have mouths to feed, my own included.

Before I became a mom, a productive day consisted of crossing off several items on my to do list. Now, a productive day means I bathed and fed three people. That’s it. It’s been a challenge to accept at times and is probably the reason I feel so behind all the time. It’s hard to watch things marinating on a to do list for days on end.

I have cried over spilt milk only it was breast milk so cut me some slack.

I used to associate silence with wide open spaces, deep thought, and peace. Now, it’s just down right worrisome and means I have to get up off my ass to see what’s going on. Then, nine times out of ten, the previous silence involves some sort of clean up or scolding or something else that’s not fun or peaceful. The exception is nap time, then silence is the most beautiful thing in the world. Especially if I’m lazy enough to nap too.