"Having children is like having a bowling alley installed in your brain." -Martin Mull
My kids have peaked and plateaued at this level of insanity that astounds me lately. Spring is here! There’s this feeling of, like, child euphoria hanging in the air across the entire city. I go to the park and see angry little bodies being wedged into carseats with chubby little legs kicking and arms flailing about and think, “Dear God, let mine go easy when it’s our time to leave this parents’ nightmare that is the playground.” Bedtime should be easy after hours of sweet screaming joy, right? Negative. Because for some reason, they think that this day was the last day ever for nice weather. It's like the fun stuff we did is just going to disappear never to be seen again in the morning. We must play on it forever, or it will run away!! Sweet Jesus, I just wanna sleep, kid. I must gather my strength for tomorrow.
My twins stand up now. The crawling was enough. I mean, it was a workout, but I’m not ready for walking because walking leads to running and kids are so fast. So, so fast. Whose great idea was that? It’s like some hilarious cosmic joke that they’re fast, and I’m slow. Guess what. Not laughing. My legs are too short for child speed distance running. Let me tell you, when my oldest kid runs, dude is like Forrest frigging Gump. I don’t need that times three. For real. I hope for two girls that are like their mother. That translates to running only when necessary. Like, when you’re TPing somebody’s house in high school, and the lights turn on inside. That’s when you run. Then, and only then. Or when you’re sadistic gym teacher thinks it’s brilliant to make you run the track for laps and laps and laps as part of Cardio Day once a week. No, just no. (Ok, it was only a mile, but still. Not cool, man.) I have a feeling I’m not going to be lucky like that, though.
As the months get warmer, it also seems that my two lovely daughters would like nothing more than to remove their diapers at night. It would be fine and dandy if they were old enough to hold it. I have gone through more laundry detergent in two weeks than I think I did in the past two months. How do you baby-proof a diaper? Where are the diapers from the good old days where you had to pretty much cut the damn tabs to take them off? Screw the Velcro, Pampers! Bring back the glue! I might just write a sternly worded letter and request this… Or maybe I’ll just remember to put jammie bottoms on from now on. One or the other. Alas, the laundry is done. I must go. The little people need sheets.