10:15 on a Saturday Night

Saturday night, Chris and I chatted quietly in the car on the way home from dinner at a friend's house.  I noted how I haven't gotten wistful or nostalgic for the early days of parenthood yet and that I haven't had the womb yearnings to have more children that people tell me about.  I lamented that I hadn't hit the point yet that I could handle adding more children to our brood because often it feels like we live with two miniature tornadoes.  Chris kindly took this opportunity to remind me that I will be celebrating my half century birthday when the minions graduate high school, ouch.  I sighed and turned up the radio. 

A few minutes later the car was filled with this sweet lotion scent.  "What is that?"  Chris asked.  I turned around to investigate.  Jack, who I wrongfully assumed was falling asleep, took it upon himself to find, open, consume and finger paint with nearly half a small tube of "calming touch" diaper cream. 

Sleeping Jack (the good old days when he stayed put)

We pulled over to a gas station so we could confiscate the body paint and clean Jack up.  As we scrubbed the inside of his mouth with baby wipes and tried to get the biggest chunks of butt cream off of his pyjamas, we debated whether or not his tongue would go numb from the cream and whether or not this should warrant a call to poison control.  Jack was furious with us.  For the rest of the trip he screamed while I attempted to ply him with pieces of Nutrigrain Bar.*

Once we got home we stripped him down, changed him, made sure he wasn't poisoned and put both of the kids to bed.**  We collapsed on the couch and Chris enjoyed a beer while I pounded grape in front of episodes of Cougar Town season 2 before heading to bed at 11:30 on a Saturday night, sigh.  The past three weeks have been rough on sleep and I feel that had I been more rested I may have been more on my A game and noticed that Jack was painting the roses red with diaper cream from the back seat of the car.

I've taken some notes on some of the things that we've let slide in an attempt to motivate us to put ourselves as priorities and feel better about our lives with toddlers.  Maybe we'll have things under control before my half centennial birthday.

Put Away Our Laundry
I'd say on average we run 12 loads of laundry a week.  For the most part only the towels and the minions clothes get put away on a semi-regular basis.  This means that our clothes get piled up onto the giant bowl chair in our bedroom, which the cat then uses as his second bed and we end up foraging for clean clothes (like hobo raccoons) almost every morning.

Buy More Foundation
I ran out of make-up foundation five days ago, but it hasn't mattered because I've been substituting with cover-up in order to tackle the rings under my eyes and the claw marks from Molly's talons I've already applied product to the majority of my face.

Get a Hair Cut
The last time I had a hair cut was in 2012.  Every day my hair resembles Elaine Benes' from a 1980's episode of Seinfeld a little bit more.***

Buy Myself Some More Clothes
Only one of my bras still has intact under wire and clasps that work.  Most of the underwear I currently own I purchased in the first year post babies, so it falls down - all the time.  I own one pair of jeans that fits me right now and that pair is usually covered in yogurt stains.


Maybe if we can tackle these things we can finally get enough energy to finally clean out the garage.  A box of Halloween decorations fell off one of the shelves onto the floor causing a creepy Chucky**** Doll to spill out onto the floor, where Chris found him sitting alone in the dark beside the beer empties.  This is traumatising for all of us.

Image Courtesy of Wikipedia

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*Diaper Cream's less tasty cousin.
**The Internet informed us that we should keep an eye out for vomiting and the runs and that eating diaper cream is far worse for pets than it is for children.  Thankfully my cat isn't dumb enough to try to consume a tube of diaper cream.
***No one has ever requested an Elaine Benes cut at the hair dresser, not even in the 1980s, I assure you.
****Somehow saying "Creepy" Chucky Doll seems a little redundant.