I’ve really never been much for wild parties…at least not since I was 19 and living in the dorms at college. Now that I'm in my thirties I tend to like things to be calm, in control, and predictable. Just typing those words...calm...in control...predictible...is like a salve to my jagged soul and I find myself pausing to meditate on them.
However, current reality is nothing like that. The current norm at our house is the appearance that we’ve had some kind of wild party that lasted for days. Only instead of empty beer cans and pizza crusts littering the floor we’ve got half-empty sippy cups and Cheerios everywhere--along with laundry that is lucky to have made it all the way to the washing machine but has never quite made it back into the dresser drawers and closets. Who knows which mound is clean or dirty anymore. There’s a sink overflowing with dirty dishes. I still can’t figure out how feeding two young children a single meal always results in two dozen small dirty bowls and half a dozen dirty eating utensils. And I think we could feed all the starving children on the planet with the crumbs and food pieces that lay to rest on the floor all around the kitchen table (Dear Son is learning how to “self-feed,” if you want to call it that).
Furthermore, Son is getting quite proficient at finding all the drawers and cupboard doors, and they ALL have to be open and any contents inside must be pulled out and explored…and then left at random while he goes off to take apart and explore the next thing. Simultaneously, Daughter is in this interesting phase where she likes to tuck her dollies and stuffed animals into any type of container she can find that resembles a bed and cover them up with clean dishrags and dish towels that had actually succeeded in making their way back to the drawer in the kitchen before she pulled them out again. She actually does have REAL baby blankets and a toy cradle for her babies, so I think she does this just to add to my insanity. There's an endless foray of random misplaced objects throughout the house in general, such as the spoon I found upstairs in the pocket of the rocking chair in Son’s room last night and the socks that Daughter doesn't want to keep on her feet so she leaves them on the couch, in the middle of the kitchen floor, and under the furniture.
Usually I can handle all of this with minimal exasperation. However, I’m having hormone problems. Really, I am. Apparently my thyroid gland has decided it doesn’t want to work as hard after assisting my body with the process of birthing two live beings into this world. This means, among lots of other problematic symptoms, that I am fat and irritable, my hair is frizzy and falling out, and I’m tired all the time. Since my metabolism is malfunctioning, the 60 minutes of running 4-5 times per week and 30 minutes of strength training 3 times per week and following the advice of my nutritionist to the letter only helps minimally. I ordered Husband to put the scale somewhere where I will never find it before I lose my mind and commit harry carry. Yes, I have lost 35 pounds since Son’s birth, but I managed to gain 50 pounds during the pregnancy, and I am still at least 15 pounds too fat to fit in my clothes and apparently still at least 15 pounds too fat for my wedding ring to fit (swollen fingers are another hypothyroid symptom). I summarize this paragraph by stating that I am simply not at my best these days and it doesn’t seem to matter how hard I work to make it better, it’s all for naught.
Because I am not at my best these days, Dear Son’s teething trauma is especially stressful. My typical easy going little boy has taken to banging his face into the floor and engaging in screaming fits as if he’s demon possessed. Hours and days and weeks of this (combined with the hormone fatalities) has left me with my own personality alterations. I’ve been holding daily exorcisms for us both. So far the demons are just laughing at me.
Juggling my career responsibilities in addition to hosting these wild parties is an interesting experience, too. It’s not unusual for me to need to have telephone conversations or teleconferences with other professionals from my home. This is tough to do with Son’s crazy fits, and lately I’ve had to explain that I’ve invited some demons over for a wild party so please just ignore all the noise in the background.
In the midst of all this we have managed to have a couple recent outings…to the zoo a couple weeks ago and to a fall festival last weekend. Here is a picture of Daughter after getting her face painted like a kitty and a picture of her in the inflatable jumping house (her favorite activity).
...And a picture of Daughter and Grandpa H at the zoo...
...And just for cute value, a couple pictures of Dear Son pushing down his crib bumper to see what he was missing during his nap...
I can't help myself... Brace yourself for a few pictures! Here is my darling son practicing his proud new skills of pulling up on everything. Comes in handy for getting into Big Sister's stuff! ...And to say he is proud of himself is majorly understating it!
