Wanna know how my night went? In one word: chaos. While Marcus has been yucking it up in Virginia I've been at home wrangling the wild beasts that are my children and cat.
A little background for you. We've recently discovered Lasagna (the cat) has been pooping and peeing in areas that are not her litter box. I almost gave her away as a kitten and again shortly after Alex was born and now I'm regretting never having done so. I don't even really like the cat to begin with so getting rid of her is really not a problem for me. I digress.
I thought I knew the areas Lasagna was doing her business, specifically all in Alex's room (passive-aggressive much, Lasagna?) but I was wrong. After dinner I found another spot in the laundry room that demanded prompt attention. Some may call me anal but I like to consider myself fastidious. I have a nose for stink and I can't stand it which is partly how I've single-handedly kept Yankee Candle in business. Again, getting off topic.
Anyway, the order of events in our household usually occur as such: 1. Dinner, 2. Bath, 3. Night cap for all, 4. Stories, 5. Bedtime. We've made that routine our bitch and as such Alexandra is quite the stickler for it. So, when I started getting all crazy about sniffing out cat pee I forgot that there were other priorities.
Now, the following is a tad bit my own fault. At one point, Alex told me she had a dirty diaper which usually is a good indication that she indeed has a dirty diaper. I told her to hold on a second, we'd be taking a bath really soon. I shoved that bit of information to the recess of my mind and continued on my decontamination of the house. Also worth mentioning, during this time I lost track of Josephine. I knew she was alive I just didn't know exactly where. Anyway, as I was wrapping up my cleaning Alex came running up to me butt-ass naked and, as if I needed further proof, proudly proclaimed "I naked!" "Yes, yes you are," I replied not in the least bit distracted by that bitch of a cat.
It wasn't until a few minutes later that I noticed she had poop on her bottom as she ran all over the house, relishing in her nakedness. Oh. My. Fucking...you get it. I don't like cat poop in the house and I certainly don't need human waste all over the place either. "Alex! Get in the bathroom right now! It's time for a bath!" Surprisingly, she listened though it then became a game of running into and out of the bathroom because I couldn't go right in with her as Josephine was MIA. "Where is Josephine?! Alex, back in the bathroom NOW! Josephine! (as if she would respond with a "yes, mother") Where are you?! Alex, if you don't get back in the bathroom right now you're going to REGRET IT. JOSEPHINE!" I ran into the master bathroom because that's one of her favorites and sure enough, there she was, crawling away from her pièce de résistance, an entire roll of toilet paper torn and crumpled and probably partially consumed on the floor.
As I was trying to wrangle Jo into the girls bathroom Alex continued her frolic until I could settle her down enough to wipe her butt and put them both in the bath. They're both now asleep, and have been for the last hour, and I'm wondering why all I have is a glass of water sitting in front of me. When Marcus called tonight he asked how my day was. I responded with a sigh. That's all I have left in me.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Thursday, June 6, 2013
This Is Probably TMI
I figured maybe it was time to post a little something about myself. I tend to be a vain creature (Hi, Jeffrey!) and I like to make sure everybody doesn't forget me. Me, me, me. It was me, after all, who carried and gave birth to the two babies we constantly talk about. I mean, isn't it time we give that a break? They're all of 2 and 8 months respectively and don't have nearly the same level of awesomeness that I do.
But, in all seriousness, I would like to write a little something about myself. Specifically, my body post two babies. This is where most of you can stop reading if you'd like.
First I'd like to mention the fact that after giving birth I felt pretty darn good about my body (both times). I mean, I'm no Victoria's Secret model bouncing back after a few weeks but I didn't have any stretch marks and my belly went down pretty well (though, as we'll find out later, not as well as I thought). I held on to some extra weight from Alex that I couldn't shake before getting pregnant with Jo but I've since lost all of that weight and was feeling pretty good about myself.
That was, until a few weeks ago when the pastor of our church asked me if I was pregnant. I was shocked. I thought he was telling me a joke. When the punchline never came, I loudly exclaimed "No!," punched him in the gut, then ran away. Most of that last sentence is true.
It was at that exact moment that I decided to pick-up my running routine that I had been putting off for long enough. I did and two weeks into it I'm already injured. I guess working my way up to 4 miles in less than 2 weeks was kind of stupid. There goes my beach bod but I don't really care. I've seen the state of some of the women out there wearing bikini's and I'm going to go for it anyway. Eh, on second thought maybe not. I just looked for a bathing suit at Victoria's Secret and I think I'm going to fast for the next two months before going out in a bathing suit.
In the end though, my only real complaint is with my breasts. They are out of control after breast feeding two babies. I put on a sports bra and one nipple points one way, the other points another. This is even after trying to line them up. It's like they're made of those stress balls filled with sand but way less firm and more of a Jello filling so, actually, not much like a stress ball at all. I can't even hang out around the house without a bra. Scratch that. I can and I do. But I'm pretty sure I make people uncomfortable with how low my breasts hang, one nipple pointing to the left and the other pointing down. Why they point that way I have no idea, but it's true.
So, there you have it. My post two babies, body issues. It could be worse. For example, it could be worse if I still weighed 180 pounds (no joke, that's how much I weighed with Jo...it was more than Marcus) but without the added benefit of having a baby inside me, so there's that. But it could be better. For example, it could be better if I still had the cute runner's butt I used to have as opposed to the mom butt that's been quietly forming back there.
But, in all seriousness, I would like to write a little something about myself. Specifically, my body post two babies. This is where most of you can stop reading if you'd like.
First I'd like to mention the fact that after giving birth I felt pretty darn good about my body (both times). I mean, I'm no Victoria's Secret model bouncing back after a few weeks but I didn't have any stretch marks and my belly went down pretty well (though, as we'll find out later, not as well as I thought). I held on to some extra weight from Alex that I couldn't shake before getting pregnant with Jo but I've since lost all of that weight and was feeling pretty good about myself.
That was, until a few weeks ago when the pastor of our church asked me if I was pregnant. I was shocked. I thought he was telling me a joke. When the punchline never came, I loudly exclaimed "No!," punched him in the gut, then ran away. Most of that last sentence is true.
It was at that exact moment that I decided to pick-up my running routine that I had been putting off for long enough. I did and two weeks into it I'm already injured. I guess working my way up to 4 miles in less than 2 weeks was kind of stupid. There goes my beach bod but I don't really care. I've seen the state of some of the women out there wearing bikini's and I'm going to go for it anyway. Eh, on second thought maybe not. I just looked for a bathing suit at Victoria's Secret and I think I'm going to fast for the next two months before going out in a bathing suit.
In the end though, my only real complaint is with my breasts. They are out of control after breast feeding two babies. I put on a sports bra and one nipple points one way, the other points another. This is even after trying to line them up. It's like they're made of those stress balls filled with sand but way less firm and more of a Jello filling so, actually, not much like a stress ball at all. I can't even hang out around the house without a bra. Scratch that. I can and I do. But I'm pretty sure I make people uncomfortable with how low my breasts hang, one nipple pointing to the left and the other pointing down. Why they point that way I have no idea, but it's true.
So, there you have it. My post two babies, body issues. It could be worse. For example, it could be worse if I still weighed 180 pounds (no joke, that's how much I weighed with Jo...it was more than Marcus) but without the added benefit of having a baby inside me, so there's that. But it could be better. For example, it could be better if I still had the cute runner's butt I used to have as opposed to the mom butt that's been quietly forming back there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)