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Planning ahead? Really?

So, in an oh so vague attempt to "plan ahead" with a 3 year old and 6 week old, Damian and I decided to ship me and the kiddos off to memphis for six weeks while he goes through an outage at the nuclear plant. After a Four hour layover in hotlanta and two very uncomfortable planes, I can legitimately say that we were not entirely thinking clearly....I have to say, it's really nice to be with family, but James Morgan is now obsessively asking about "daddy? Home? Daddy?" very sweet but sometimes I wish to be selectively deaf. How fantastic would that be.....that crazy family behind you in kroger? You'd never hear them. Personally, I use ear plugs....end of the day, done everything for the kiddos and am in desperate need of securing my sanity, I plug in those babies and go on making dinner. (no worries....kids are fine....just fond of getting a rise out of me, which is quite easy to do these days). So, well see how tomorrow fairs, but I'm expecting at least two wake up calls tonight from the two little tyrants...and I've got a bit of weight to lose before my sisters wedding, so I've got some serious work cut out for me this month......cheers!

This morning, I discovered that I cannot even go out to the mailbox without some type of catastrophe happening inside the house. By 11 a.m., Damian and I had changed 5 dirty diapers between the two kids (James Morgan has reverted to wearing diapers since Annalina was born, so that makes for a pleasant time). I finally made a break for it and went out the front door to put two packages in the mailbox. As the door closed, I hear James Morgan say, "change me." I didn't totally process this until I was walking back into the house and realized that he pooed his pants. Again. Here's your warning that this next part is pretty gross. James Morgan meets me in the hallway with both hands down his pants - he then pulls them out to show me that he has poop stuck in his fingernails. (I warned you). His pants and shirt are also smeared with poo, so he races back to the den (pants around his ankles by now) to get the wipe box in a semi-effort to clean himself off. He would go through an entire box of wipes in one sitting, if I let him - besides I didn't think wipes would quite do the job this time. So, I grabbed James Morgan under the arms and rushed him off to the bathtub to clean up the sixth 'mess' of the day. All that I learned from this is - don't leave the kids unoccupied. Ever. My 30-second trip to the mailbox equalled a one-hour poop cleanup. And, I still have the poo-covered clothes and towels in the washing machine. And and for the dirty diaper and wipes I left on the mantle? Totally forgot about it until Damian walked past it an hour later and cleaned it up for me. So, my life has become an hourly cycle of feeding and dirty diapers. Oh, and you may wonder where Damian was during this episode - he legitimately couldn't help me as he was cleaning up a formula-covered, very fussy Annalina. Cheers - hope everyone has as good of a weekend as we are in store for!

So, I realize I'm supposed to write just one blog a day - at least I think that's how it goes. But, sometimes I just get so riled up about something that happened 2 or 3 months ago that have to go ahead and say something. And, if that something happens to involve someone I know, well, no offense. Anyway, about one month before Annalina was born, I was aimlessly walking through Wal-mart (well, literally, I was trying to walk Annalina out of me), and I happened to walk into the frozen foods department. The store was fairly empty (cold, rainy day), but there was one 80+ year old man on a scooter at the end of the aisle. He starts yelling, "Help!!" Then he says it again, "Help!!" So, my 9-month pregnant self actually waddles towards him to see what I can actually help him with. Before I even get close (I wasn't moving all that fast at this point in pregnancy), an older woman at the opposite end of the aisle yells, "What do ya need??" Old man goes, "Where's the ravioli??"" Old woman - "Next Aisle!"
Really? You got my heart rate up for ravioli? The frozen kind? Actually, there's a bit more to this story....the week after Annalina was born, Damian and I were in Target looking for clothes for her, as she ended up being a little bigger than the 'newborn' size (see, I knew I was overdue!). We found a few outfits and made our way over to the pharmacy section to pick up baby vitamins for her. About 2 minutes later (wait for it), we hear, "Help!!" coming from the toilet paper aisle. You guessed it, the same man in a similar Target-style scooter was screaming for help while looking for his non-chafing toilet paper.

Today I found myself standing in my kitchen, watching my two kids stare at and semi-play with each other, and I just felt this awful, overwhelming, sinking feeling - like, what am I supposed to do with these little people? And, how on earth will I sanely (and enjoyably, hopefully) manage the next couple of years (and have them turn out ok)? I will say that my methods of coping are most likely the total opposite of the average mother's. I look forward to nightly glass(es) of wine as if it was a drink from the eternal fountain of youth. When the kids are napping (if they are), I sneak into the backyard for a cigarette, and yes, I do hide it from my neighbors. I know how terrible they are, how disgusting they are, etc. (how terrible cigarettes are, not the neighbors...), but twice a day, it gives me 3-4 minutes of complete solitude - minus the loud damned labs in the backyard behind mine. I get headaches - sometimes fullblown migraines - at the thought of a Wee-Sing album, so instead my kids listen to Bob Dylan, The Avett Brothers and Mumford & Sons instead (and naturally, anything classic like Johnny Cash and The Monkees).
I occasionally manage to accomplish partial 'to-do' lists, but usually, I just forget where I wrote it, shout out a curse word or two, then go to the computer and write and work on eBay. Hey, if I'm meant to be at home, at least I need and want to get something out of it. It's ok - totally - if nobody reads or likes what I write. But, I like to write, despite my cynicism on almost everything, I do like to write. I'm not sure what else I'm good for, just yet. Although when I recently had Annalina, the nurses told me I'm 'made for birthing' b/c I've had two, very short and (unfortunately) almost natural labors. I told them to hell with that - there will be no more birthing on my end - they gave me these startled looks like, 'why on earth not?' Here's the only answer I have - it's incredibly painful and kids are extremely hard to raise - good or bad, kids are just hard to raise, but I'll keep ya updated.....
I did manage to get James Morgan to pee in the toilet instead of on the new carpet, so that's a win. He promptly socked me with his water bottle, so I guess that cancels the first one out, huh.

I have no idea why I expect so much out of myself (when I have a newborn at home), but I always do - so here was my agenda for today: list 10 new items on eBay, tape and paint the trim in James Morgan's room, go through my closet and get rid of everything I haven't worn in a year, finish my thank-you notes, oh and take care of James Morgan (3) and Annalina (3 weeks). Here's what I accomplished: I got James Morgan to school only half an hour late, I washed 9 bottles, I moved the dirty clothes from one bin to another, and I taped off about 5 feet of the wall in James Morgan's room. Here's the best part - apparently, the bunky board on James Morgan's top bunk isn't quite long enough, so when I was up there taping (no, of course I didn't move the bed and use a ladder instead), I promptly fell straight through, all the way down to the bottom bunk. No worries, no injuries - that's just how every day goes for me - crashing through a bunky board all the way down to the floor and then starting over again. 
I may actually do some work on eBay, but most likely, I'll be stuck cleaning banana off one kid and wiping poop off the other. I sometimes say that I hate these days, but really, these times are short-lived. Before I realize it, James Morgan will be in kindergarden and Annalina will be 3 years old and I'll wonder what happened to that time? Hopefully, I won't spend it worrying what I did or didn't "accomplish" for the day. I forgot how much I missed the flailing newborn hands and feet and that distinct smell of a newborn head - I don't know what it is, but it's one of those smells you never forget. 
But, here is one thing I will not miss - James Morgan reverting from being potty trained to wearing diapers again. The worst of it is when he poops his pants, removes his dirty diaper/pants and subsequently wipes his tushy clean with about 20+ wipes. He then leaves these piles of wipes all over the kitchen (thank god it's tile). I have not idea where this habit came from, but I'm so ready for it to stop. And, this entire ordeal happens in less than 2 minutes, so I always miss it until he's walking around stark naked with a (finally) clean rearend. Well, I still have a ridiculous amount of chores to do tonight, so I might as well go ahead and pour myself a glass a wine in an attempt to get through them sanely.....

When did I go and have 2 kids?

If I had a professional interview tomorrow (i.e. for a job other than motherhood), and I was asked the, 'where do you see yourself in 5 years' question, I would have to answer, 'still cleaning up crap, still getting vomit stains out of the carpet and still consoling myself with 'mommy juice' while I make yet another casserole dinner. I love my children, I do, but I do not love all of the 'things' that come with them - your 5-year-old wetting the bed EVERY night for 3 years, walking a newborn for hours on end because she can't get settled, asking for help at Target because your son just projectile vomited all over your clothes and into your shoes. And, there are so many more lovely features of stay-at-home mommyhood.

Now, before anyone begins a self-righteous loathing of me - i.e. saying that children are such a blessing, I should be so grateful that I even have them, etc., let me set the record straight by saying that I am very thankful for the little creatures - I am just blatantly honest and enjoy venting about the miserable parts of parenting.
I try not to despair, and I try to avoid long crying spells at all costs (my crying spells - not my kids' crying spells), but it's all really unavoidable. One plus - I end up losing alot of weight from the sheer stress of attempting to sanely manage two little kids....