Our babysitter found a job in the city and is now unavailable.
The children are destroying my house.
Every day, Isaac pulls a chair up to the counter and manages to get into something.
A few days ago? Sprayed PAM on his face. Two days ago? Dumped out the trash while I was going to the bathroom. Yesterday? Dumped orange juice on the floor. Today? Well, I don’t know yet, but it’s coming.
Joseph has questions questions questions. Why is a tree called a tree? Can Superman still fly if he isn’t wearing his costume? Who is stronger, green hulk, red hulk, or grey hulk?
My specialty is finger paints, and tea parties, people. I am underequipped.
My baby dolls never stepped in a runaway-poop that escaped a diaper and smeared it all over the pillows.
My dolls never jumped on furniture repeatedly, bumped chests while roaring, knocked over pictures, or dumped out bins of toys for no apparent reason!
Oh, I love those boys! Every night I pray that the next day I will have more patience and yet every day I find myself yelling “Get out of the kitchen!!!! Mommy needs SPAAAACE!”
My fingers are raw from taking costumes off and on.
If I have to act interested in where Catwoman is going on her motorcycle for one more minute, I am going to gouge out my eyes.
My car sounds are terrible,
much less my bat-erang or light saber.
I have a sinking suspicion that they aren’t going to agree to do arts and crafts with me much longer.
Pom poms don’t thrill them.
And maybe I shouldn’t be encouraging boys to dance with me to Captain and Tennille?
No one told me that it would be like this.
Why did no one tell me that it would be like this?
To all of you out there who are having their second boy- it will be like this.
You will love it!
But sometimes, you will need a babysitter.