I know why I'm not drunk. How about you?

So, sometimes I wonder why I'm not drunk everyday.

I really wish I had more time to blog. I could write a daily blog post about my mishaps if only my munchkins could learn to use the oven and do their own laundry.

I must enjoy my reality to some extent because I do nothing to try to escape, relax, or self-medicate. I just plow through, popping ibuprofen for tension headaches and laughing at my own expense. And, of course, I do enjoy my reality - my kids are part of my reality ... just not ALL parts of my reality.

For instance, I really didn't enjoy it two nights ago when I caught my 11 month old, Harry, sitting in his highchair, playing in his own poop (and having a blast, by the way) because his diaper had exploded during dinner. Then, when I took him to the bathroom for a bath, I found TWO dirty diapers ripped to shreds by our dog that my husband had left in the bathroom trash from bathtime the night before. Those tiny urine-filled crystals from inside the diaper were EVERYWHERE (slimy!). Then, when I finished his bath and went to clean the kitchen, a block of shortening fell out of the refrigerator door and splattered all over the kitchen floor. Ugh.

And yesterday, I really didn't enjoy it when my 3 yr old, Max, took his new Darth Vader light saber and hit my 11 month old in the forehead with it. On purpose.

And I didn't like it when I told Max to stop jumping on the bed, but he didn't listen and almost immediately lost his balance and performed a perfect horizontal spin off the bed and onto the hardwood floor, hitting his head on the way down. Or, when Harry threw a monster temper tantrum because I wouldn't let him eat his brother's shoe, so he catapulted his whole body backwards, hitting his head on the hardwood floor. (I think the moral of these stories is that hardwood floors don't mesh with little boys and helmets are hightly recommended).

However, my boys do provide some comic relief.

For example, yesterday at Lowe's, my husband and I had to hang out in the grout and caulk aisle for 10 minutes because Max said he was pooping and we couldn't leave until he was done. So, he hid behind a pole and finished his business while I prayed that the woman standing behind him didn't smell anything suspicious.

Or two nights ago when I told Max that if he wants to sleep in mommy and daddy's bed, he can't talk because it is sleeping time. So, he hummed instead. And then whispered to me that he had tooted. I guess I should have been more specific.

And, in addition to the laughs, my boys do provide some "awwwwww"s, too.

Like, when Max kisses Harry. Or he goes to Harry's room to bring him a blanket or a toy. Or like yesterday when Harry slept in my arms and cuddled with me in the morning before anyone else woke up. Or when Max can't control his excitement about something I take for granted, like popcorn or staying up late, and he runs up to me, hugs my legs and screams, "I LOVE YOU, MO-MMY!"

If I was drunk everyday, I'd probably miss those things. Or at least not remember them the next day.

I guess I'll just keep popping the ibuprofen and laughing at my own expense.

Because I never, ever want to forget these days. All too soon, my boys will be grown up and these days will be gone. And while I could do without the diaper explosions and the temper tantrums, I could never do without the sweet smiles, hugs, sleepy eyes, "I love you"s, the small hands holding mine, and the whispers in the night, telling me that my son has tooted.




I love you, boys!

(by the way, today is Max's 3rd birthday, so I might be feeling a little nostalgic. And sad that he is growing up too fast. And co-dependent. And tired. And brain-fried. And over the moon that my oldest baby is turning 3! But still a little sad. I was already crying by 8:30 am. Stop growing!!)