Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Introducing Skittle

Last week, I noticed Will seemed to be talking to "himself" more often. I also noticed that these conversations seemed a bit one-sided, as if there was someone else in the room with them.

Turns out, there "is".

Allow me to introduce Skittle (I asked him and he doesn't need a blog pseudonym).

After careful investigation, we have thus far concluded that Skittle is:

1) 2 years old (He was 1 year old, but he shares a birthday with Will, so he is now 2.)

2) A boy.

3) Residing in the toy room.

4) Not a fan of cereal - he prefers hot dogs (with ketchup!) for breakfast.

5) Apparently responsible for an entire roll of toilet paper being unrolled while Will was innocently using the bathroom.

So far, Skittle is mostly well-behaved and we are enjoying his antics with Will. It is amazing what their minds come up with.

Monday, August 29, 2011


Does anyone have a doppler they are interested in selling? No, it isn't for me, it is for a friend! That's right, the friend I talked about in this post is pregnant again. Please keep everything crossed that this time she ends up with a RLB!!!

Sunday, August 28, 2011

When Does It Get Easier?


A decision has been made.

I am returning to work in October.

And I feel as if I can't breathe.

Every time I look at my kids, I want to cry. I know this will get easier, but it is hard right now.

Other friends that have returned to work tell me that the first few weeks of transition are hardest, as everyone settles into a new normal, and that it takes a few more weeks to reall get into a rhythm. When we looked at daycares last Friday, one of the directors told me, "Don't worry, all of the moms cry at first. The first few times you drop them off, you will cry, but then it gets easier."

I cried.

Later on in the tour, as we were standing in a hallway, a daddy/son pair walked by, the son appearing to be about Will's age. He was chattering non-stop about his day and seemed perfectly happy. They have obviously been through the transition and have emerged unscathed. So, we will, too.

In any case, for the time being, we won't be leaving the kids at a traditional daycare center. We have decided to accept my friend's offer and Will and Emma will spend their days at her house. She lives across the street from us. We can literally pluck them from their cribs and take them over in their jammies. This is one of my closest friends and Will is very comfortable at her house. I think the transition might be a bit more difficult for Emma, simply because she is at that separation anxiety age, though she is actually very independent even with that. I am a bit concerned about the longevity of the situation, but for now, especially in the beginning when I am traveling, it feels the most comfortable.

So, now, please tell me. . .

When does it get easier?

(Also, for those of you who are working outside of the home, if you care to share any tips on transition, day-to-day advice, coping and scheduling strategies, I would really appreciate it.)

Friday, August 26, 2011

Forks In the Road

Life goes along, you know?

Day by day, things go by, little by little. Most of life is really quite unplanned once we make the Big Decisions.

Then, every once in awhile, the Big Decisions come along. I have never really been good at the Big Decisions, mostly becauseI am not one of those people who just "live in the moment". I am a planner, always have been, and whenever I make a Big Decision, I see the long term effects of it and have to weigh everything carefully. Once I make the Big Decision, I am actually pretty good about living with it, but the making. . . oh, the making.

Walk with me.

The past three months, we have taken some big hits financially. You might remember, I got laid off from my part time job, which didn't make a lot, but was a bit extra each month. Hit #1.

Hit #2 was a string of health needs. Emma was in the doctor five times in one week. Long story. I also have been having more and more trouble with my neck. I cannot function when it goes out and my physical therapy is not covered until we hit our $2000 deductible and then it is covered at 60/40. I tried so hard not to get therapy the first two times it went out, but the cost was that I think I hurt myself more and have cost us more money in the long run.

The most crucial hit, however, was Hit #3, a change in health care plan at M's work, where the amount we had to pay went up - an increase was over $340 per month. Unfortunately, our insurance didn't get any better. We still have huge deductibles and then co-insurance and my PT is still not covered. I know this is hardly a unique situation. I don't really know anyone that has "good" insurance. But we had about two week's notice before the switch and increase went into effect and that's kind of a big amount to suddenly come up with each month out of a budget that was already tight. Before the increase, we had enough to meet our monthly obligations and a very tiny bit extra for fun spending, and that was about it. We are fortunate that we have a decent amount in savings, and so when something like the car needing new brakes comes up (as it did last month - July was a rough month), we have to take that money from savings. Which wasn't a big deal when it happened occasionally, but it seems to be happening more and more often. Yes, I know that is what savings is for, but as that amount dwindles, so does our comfort level. We went through our budget last month and got rid of anything remotely "fun", downgrading cell phone plans, cable t.v., etc., and the numbers are still falling a bit short.

Enter the Big Decision (which I haven't done a good job of suspense-building - I am sure you see this one coming).

I have a former boss who I worked for at J&J. Let's call him. . . Da Man. Well, Da Man has contacted me me about once a year with a diferent job opportunity since I had Will. He works for a different company now, but it is the same industry. Each year, I have been tempted to take the job offer, and each year, I have decided it wasn't time.

This past Monday, Da Man called. He has an opportunity for me that most people would kill for. Believe me, in this economy, Iknow, I am a LUCKY woman.

Here are the upsides (of which, there are many): I will actually make slightly more than I did when I walked away from my career three years ago, which. . . well, it's more than a good salary, with great benefits. The territory is small (relatively speaking - no overnight travel) and familiar to me (I worked it before). I will work from home (though not at home, I will need to be away for the majority of the day) and have some flexibility in planning my schedule. After I am established with the company (let's say six months to a year), getting time off for sick kiddos, doctor's appointments, special events, etc., is a non-issue. I have worked for Da Man before. He worked me like a dog, but he also thinks a lot of me, respects what I do, and is a family man himself so understands that they will still come first. To me, one of the hardest aspects of a new job is learning a new manager and how they "tick". I've got Da Man kind of figured out. I know how to keep him happy and what is important to him.

Here are the downsides: The training is in New Jersey. For three weeks. Unfortunately, I cannot come home on weekends and the kids and M cannot visit. For someone who has been with her kiddos 24/7 since they were born, this is hard for me to get over (yes, I know it is temporary, it still is something that is hard to deal with). There are national and regional sales meetings about once a quarter to bi-quarterly. Those are usually less than five days long, but it will still be hard. I hated them even before I had kids and only had to leave the furbabies and M. There are days when my schedule will be insane. Sales is sales. You go where the money is, when the money is. There were nights when I wasn't home until midnight and then would turn around and leave the next morning before the sun was up. Obviously, I have some control over this, but there will be times when I do not. There are field rides which are awful in length and intensity, and Da Man loved working with me. He worked with me a LOT (once a month or more). My world kind of stopped before when I had to ride with my manager. That is going to be hard with kids. I know I will reach a new balance and figure it out. It's just intimidating.

And, the ultimate downside. . . I will no longer be with my kids everyday. I know many of you, my dear readers, are working outside the home parents. I respect that with every fiber of my being. This choice is a highly personal one that has to work for each family and no one can make for anyone else. However, I think we make these choices and then live with them based on a tape we play in our head. So, let's say you work. Your tape would support that choice. Let's say you don't work. Your tape supports that. Not to say that either tape is wrong or right, but it's what keeps you going, what helps you feel comfortable with the decision you've made. And while I have heard some moms say that being at home wouldn't be for them, I really have enjoyed being at home (though I do spend a lot of time worrying about what the future holds) and spending my day with these two amazing little people.

We looked at several daycare facilities today. One was an absolute NO GO. I mean, I wouldn't leave my furbaby there. One was decent. One was your cadillac, top-of-the-line facility where our children will be taught Spanish, Manners, and Reflective Dance (I am not kidding). All of them made me cry. It's not that there was really anything wrong (with the last two anyway). It's just that they aren't. . . ME.

A good friend has offered to watch them, but my hesitation is that I haven't heard a lot of successful stories of mixing friendship and childcare. She also wants a "trial" basis and I don't know what we'll do if it turns out to be too much for her and then I've aready taken the job. I also think she wants a more casual arrangement, and I need someone who will be there when I need them to be (within reason).

M refuses to look off of Craigslist or do a state-licensed home daycare (for security reasons) and nanny services are so expensive that it would really negate the financial benefits of me returning to work. So. . . it's pretty much either finding a nanny through word of mouth or using a daycare center. But, I think we can find something. I just have to stop playing the tape.

So, my tape has been playing for a long time. It's hard to unwind that tape and start playing a new one. I realize I am fortunate to even have a decision to make.

I mean, we could keep hobbling along, barely making ends meet. This causes a lot of stress for both of us. Or. . . we could choose a different path where we won't have to hobble along.

So. . . I don't even know what I am looking for here. This is decision that we have to make together. I guess I just needed to put all of this down. And if I am quiet for awhile, you will know why.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Happy Third Birthday, William Patrick

Dearest Will,

Three years ago today, you were born and my world changed completely.

This is what I wrote on your birthday, August 20, 2008.

The most amazing this has happened.
I am a mother. My husband is a father. We are parents and we are so in love.

This is as true today as it was when I first wrote it, if not more so. I am a mother. Not just any mother, but your mother. Your father is a father. Your father. We are your parents and we are so much in love with you.

If someone had told me that day in the hospital how quickly the time would pass, I wouldn't have believed them. And at first, to be quite honest, time passed rather slowly. Each day, though wonderful, was a battle as we figured each other out and learned to be a family. Then, somehow, we got into a rhythm. Each day got easier, better, and more wonderful than I could have possibly imagined. There were days when I literally pinched myself because I couldn't believe that my dreams had finally come true. You were everything I had dreamed of and so very much more.

You are a strong-willed little boy who is often determined to get his way. You have very definite ideas on what you want and when you want it. These qualities can make parenting you a bit of a challenge, but they will be assets as you grow. And while I do believe you will be assertive in getting what you want, I also know that you will be respectful in doing so. While you are not shy in asking for what you want, you are also not short in generosity, making sure that others get things, too.

Your heart is so big. You are so compassionate. You are the first person to ask a friend if they are okay if they fall down and to help them by getting a grown up. If your sister cries, you are on the run for a binkie or toy to calm her down.

When we gave you your big boy bed for your third birthday present, one of your first questions was, "Can Emma come up, too?" You love your sister, you love to include her in everything, you love to teach her things. You make my heart burst with pride over how you have grown so much Emma came into our lives.

Every birthday we hit is a milestone that brings mixed emotions. I am so glad to see you thriving, growing, and learning so much every day. With each new age comes new opportunities, adventures, and excitement. It also makes me long for the days when you were just a tiny baby in my arms. Those times were so fleeting and I have to admit, there are many days when I wish I could just go back there.

But then you say or do something so knock-me-off-my-feet-AMAZING and there is no moment I would rather be in than this one. You have made me a mother, made us a family, made all of my dreams come true, and made me so grateful to share all of this with an incredible human being. I am so proud of you, my sweetest (not so) Little Man. I am so blessed by you. Thank you for being born and changing me forever.

I love you. . . soooooo much.


Tuesday, August 16, 2011

We Both Grow

There are times in my parenting journey that I can feel it all slipping by too quickly. I just want to stand still and make time stand still with me.

Will turns three years old on Saturday.

Wait. [Cue screeching, scratching record sound.] What?

Will. Turns. Three. Saturday.

I can type it with as much punctuation as I want and I will still be in a bit of shock and a tiny bit of depression about it. My mom always says, "Well, you don't want the alternative!" No, I don't. I am so desperately glad to have healthy, growing, aging children. That doesn't mean that I still don't get a tug on the ol' heart strings watching them get bigger, more independent, and just a tiny bit further away from those little babies they once were (Emma throws tantrums now. TANTRUMS. Albeit mini-tantrums that are almost laughable when compared to the tantrums of a three year old, but tantrums all the same and certainly a harbinger of things to come.).

Given my "If I Could Save Time In A Bottle Mentality" I did something completely out of character two days ago. I was futzing around on craigslist, looking when I should have been listing (story of my life), when I found IT.

By IT, I mean the bed Will has been coveting since he first saw it at his friend's house in November. The last time we came home from this particular friend's house where they played in it most of the time we were there, he walked into his own bedroom, looked sorrowfully at his own crib-turned-toddler-bed and said, "I need a big boy bed, Mommy."

Well, see, here's the thing. M and I purchased one of those fancy schmancy convertible cribs. It was quite a bit of money and I sold M on the practicality of it. "It's the only bed he'll ever need!" I proclaimed in all of my seven month pregnant glory (even if more than we had planned on spending, the crib was still an excellent deal and the very last one - my hormones were telling me someone else would buy it if we didn't RIGHT NOW). Of course, I meant it then, but I hadn't counted on all of his friends having these super cool beds and him having this plain old bed that isn't really a bed. It was just a crib with the side off. So, my mind got to thinking (always dangerous). . . what about getting him a true big boy bed for his third birthday?

The bed is $199 (plus tax) at Ikea. The bed canopy is $40 (plus tax). The mattress that they bought is $99 (plus tax). Altogether, we are looking at over $350 for all of it with taxes. That was way out of our budget for a birthday present. And besides, as M loved to remind me, we bought that specific crib so we would never have to buy a bed for him again. So, no big boy bed.

And then, I found IT. On Craigslist. For $100. All of it. The bed, the canopy, the mattress. I figured it was already sold, so I e-mailed "just to see". It wasn't sold. It was still available.

I asked my girlfriend if she could possibly go with me to disassemble it and haul it in her much larger SUV. I figured she would have other plans. She didn't. She was excited and eager to help.

So, now all that remained was asking M, which I chickened out and did over text. I figured he would say a resounding NO. He actually did say NO, but it wasn't resounding and I was very persistent and convincing (also rather out of character for me) and he relented.

Saturday morning, my girlfriend and I went to retrieve the bed. We brought it home and put the pieces in our garage.

Suddenly, I realized what I had done (am I the only one who realizes the true impact of their actions after they have already done something?). I had bought a BIG! BOY! BED! which meant that I had to take down the crib. Allen wrench in hand, piece by piece, screw by screw; I felt as if I was undoing my heart. As I pulled the slats and rails apart, I cried. I remembered his crib going up, I remembered bringing Will home to it, I remembered sleep training, I remember crawling into it when he wouldn't sleep alone (oh, I didn't mention that before now. . . oops) I remembered not so long ago when I cried when the front rail came off. . . Can you just hear the faint strains of "Memories"?

I realized that this buying of a big boy bed was actually very symbolic. You see, I do want to keep him little, but I don't want to hold him back. I want to encourage his growth and development. When he is ready, I want him to step forward, whether it be from my arms, a crib, our family home, our neighborhood, and someday, far beyond. My job is to get him ready for those steps and then to encourage him to take those steps, cheering him along all the way and catching him if he stumbles a bit. So I dried my tears and looked forward to all of the fun times to come in this new bed.

When the bed was up and ready, the Big Reveal was pretty priceless. He was SO excited! (I have shared the video on Facebook, but I am not sure how to share video from my phone here. If we aren't Facebook friends and you want to be, let me know through a comment or e-mail how to find you and I will.)

Then nighttime fell and it was actually time for him to sleep in the Big Boy Bed.


He didn't want his new big boy bed any more. It might have been fun to play with but it was time to sleep and he wanted his crib.

At this point, all of the crib pieces had been hauled down to the garage. Since it was a Craigslist purchase, M had assembled the new bed without benefit of instructions (although, honestly, Ikea instructions are rather worthless), and we had spent the better part of a day on this project. But I still got down on Will's level and asked him if he really wanted his old bed back (and I really didn't know what he would say). He thought about it for a minute and then slowly shook his head. "No, I keep my new bed."

We took bedtime a bit more slowly and I crawled in with him for a few minutes to get him settled. I rubbed his back, sang him a song (or ten), and we talked about how big and grown up he is getting in his new big boy bed. He was getting sleepy and I kissed his little head, smelling his freshly washed hair. I loved on my baby for a minute before crawling out of the bed. I paused at the door, half expecting (and a tiny bit hoping) he would call out to me, but he didn't. He was ready. And so was I.

We both grew a little bit.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Live and Learn

My dear friend Ms. J wrote about a scary experience that recently happened with her daughter, Peanut. It reminded me of something that happened with Will when he was about the same age. I never wrote about it because. . . well, I'll be really honest, I was embarrassed about it. And though I am fortunate that most of the comments I receive here are positive (or at least polite if voicing disagreement), I have had a few negative comments from time to time. And if someone had issues with me letting my son go potty by "himself" at the zoo, I am sure that someone will have issues with this and I was a little too raw about it to blog it in "real time".

That being said, I am not a rainbows and lollipops parent. There are many wonderful things about being a mommy, but there are lots of things that are frustrating, embarassing, and downright confusing. And then, there are times when you mess up, plain and simple. Some time has passed since this happened and, as I was thinking about it today, I realized that sharing this story might actually be a bit of a PSA. Because other people might not think about things the same way you do, so even a loving family member can unintentionally put your child(ren) at risk.

Rewind to a little over a year and a half ago. It was late fall 2009 and I was just barely pregnant with Emma and Will was somewhere around 17 months old. Battling morning sickness and exhausted, I was laying on the floor of his gated playroom, listlessly watching him play when he toddled over to me and handed me a WET, CHEWED ON half tablet of mystery origin. A tiny bit of white powder was at the corner of his mouth, dismissing my fervent hope that a dog had chewed the unidentified pill. Fortunately, there was still enough of an imprint left that I was able to Google and figure out that it was. . . VICODIN. Only half, mind you. IMMEDIATELY, my mind freaked out, wondering where the heck the other half was. Oh, and WHERE IN THE NAME OF GRAVY DID THIS VICODIN EVEN COME FROM?!?! I had percocet following my c-section with Will and couldn't remember the last time I had vicodin before that. And super-healthy, surgery-free M hasn't ever been prescribed vicodin. Even if we DID have vicodin in the house, we keep all medications (even the "baby" ones) in a LOCKED cabinet far above young childrens' hands in our upstairs bathroom - and WILL DIDN'T CLIMB STAIRS at that age and we had baby gates at the top and bottom of the staircase.

After identifying the mystery pill, I immediately called our pediatrician's office, and was told to call poison control. That phone call might have been the lowest point of my parenting career. Calling poison control and admitting my child had a vicodin in his hand, that was clearly chewed upon, and that I didn't even know where it came from. . . yeah, my Parent of the Year Trophy definitely was a bit tarnished. Fortunately, the lady on the phone was very, very nice. She said that even newborns can safely tolerate small doses of vicodin and that unless he ingested more than half a pill, he would be just fine, if a bit drowsy. She said he could have taken several pills and still be okay. She gave me warning signs to look for and did suggest I try to identify the "source" just to make sure it didn't happen again and that he had, indeed, only had a half tablet.

I scoured our house, looking for stray vicodin. Then, coming up empty handed, I then started making calls to people who had recently been in our house. It was awkward, but I was desperate to find out where this pill had come from. Fortunately, I was only two calls in when I discovered what had happened.

Turns out, it came from my MIL, who had visited the day before. She keeps half vicodin tablets in a baggie in her purse for her geriatric dog who travels everywhere with her. The baggie was in her purse, but after checking it while we were on the phone, she realized it was partially unzipped and had spilled into (and apparenlty out of) her purse. She was POSITIVE she had 9 half tablets before and she had 8 in her purse now. And Will had found the 9th. I was all at once both furious and relieved. Will was fine, but I felt as if we'd had a close call. I (very politely) made it clear to my MIL that she was no longer allowed to bring any sort of medications into our home if they weren't in childproof containers AND I put her purse in the closet when she visits. She felt terrible about what happened (she loves Will more than life itself and would never want to harm him - she just wasn't thinking about the potential danger) and was eager to make sure it never happened again. Problem solved (though I still went through the house twice more to make sure there were no more halves that she might have miscounted).

This story serves as a good reminder that those that visit you might not be aware of the necessary precautions you should take when you have children around. Obviously, vicodin is a scary one that most people would think about taking special care with, but even the more "innocent" medications like acetaminophen can be dangerous in high doses. It is likely that most people who enter your home have medication in their belongings. It is a sensitive topic to broach with some people, but there are gentle ways to do it. If you have people visiting, especially overnight guests who might have a medicine bag with them, it is easy to offer them a special place to keep things where accidental access is less likely to happen (a locked cabinet or high shelf of a closet for example). I usually phrase it like this: "I can't guarantee Will, Emma, or our dog will stay out of your purse (or whatever personal items they might have brought). Can I put it in this closet for you?" I show them where I am putting said belonging(s) so they have free access to it, but it keeps the kiddos out and whatever they might have brought in. It also takes the burden off of them and places it on me and I don't need to get into the whole "are you carrying drugs" with you conversation. And yes, I also do think that it is very, very important to teach my children not to get into peoples' things and not to eat things that haven't been given to them by an adult they trust. But my children are still very young and I do not want the cost of them breaking a "rule" to be their lives.

So, all is well that ends well and I learned a valuable lesson. Hopefully, you can learn from it, too.

Without a call to poison control.

*If you have other suggestions on this topic or stories to share, that's great. If you disagree with how I handled this, that is fine, too. I am always eager to learn from others' perspectives. Just keep it respectful, please, we're all on the same team here!

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Then and Now

Recently, quite a few of my blog friends have been having their second babies (I only linked to two, because the others are PWP). Most of these ladies have been with me from the beginning (or close to it), so it has been nice to watch their journies continue on to #2. All of them, of course, are rocking the mom to two thing. Hardly surprising, since they are awesome mommies to begin with.

Of course, watching them brings a mix of emotions to me. First and foremost, I am so freakin' happy for them. It really is a special (if a bit crazy) time bringing home a baby. There is also a bit of sadness thrown in, because I know some really amazing ladies for whom #2 hasn't happened yet, and I can imagine following these stories is more than a little bittersweet. It also makes me a eensy bit jealous. I don't really want a third, but that newborn phase is so fleeting that it makes me wistful that I'll never have it again. Lastly, in total conflict, it makes me a bit glad that I will never have that again. As wonderful as that newborn phase is, it is also incredibly hectic, exhausting, and emotionally draining, and I love sleep.

Where I am today is good.

I am really into a rhythm with my two. I am not at all afraid about going anywhere with them by myself. I am not the stay at home type of stay at home mom, so I was concerned about this heading into #2. I needn't have been. I go everywhere with my monkeys. Everywhere.

Our life has settled into a somewhat predictable routine. I am not nearly as. . . well, let's just say it . . . CRAZY about scheduling everything like I was with Will, but I still do like to keep things similar from day to day. I think kids like that predictability, and even if they don't, I do. I like knowing when I can schedule appointments and such and when I will have some (precious) Mommy-time!

Emma is beginning to truly communicate what she wants. She has a few words she can say, but her latest, "BITE!" when she is hungry is very convenient! This girl is hungry a LOT. She also can gesture wildly to things he wants (binky, sippy cup, toy her brother is playing with, etc.). Will is almost three (time needs to stop, I am serious) and talk about communication! Whew! He is also getting more independent by the day and can get himself (mostly) dressed, shoes off or on, and help me with all sorts of small chores. So, life gets easier as the two of them get older.

I felt as if the first year of Emma's life went by in an impossibly fast blur. I seriously don't know how a year passed us. She was born and then pop! she was turning one. I can only imagine this next year will scoot by even faster. I am trying to enjoy every moment, but I will admit, I often feel as if an entire day slips by without me even realizing it.

The other day, we were driving someplace when Will sneezed. Emma laughed. So then Will fake sneezed and Emma laughed again. Then. . . she faked a sneeze! Then Will laughed. They had each other in belly laughs within a few minutes. M and I were up front laughing, too. It's those moments that everything kind of slips together and freeze frames. And those moments are crazy incredible. They are worth every shot in the stomach, every failed cycle, every time in the strirrups, everything. But I am no longer in that place, that then. I thank God for that every single day.

To steal the line from a very cheesy American Idol song, "This is my now."

Monday, August 1, 2011

Because Sometimes, A Girl Needs A List

Sometimes, I look back at the day and I think, "What did I DO today?"

I saw this on A'dell's blog and thought it was pure genius. Because it reminds me that I actually AM doing something each day. . . even when it doesn't seem like it.

1. Woke up before the kids so I could make M breakfast (peanut butter on toast - hardly gourmet, don't be impressed).

2. Showered (you're welcome, World).

3. Made breakfast for both kids. Cleaned up (as in, tossed all dishes in the sink - the dishwasher was full).

4. Got both kids sunscreened, dressed, and ready for the day.

5. Got myself dressed and ready for the day.

6. Fed and put the dog out.

7. Went to have three estimates done on the car for brakework. Ugh. (But apparently vying for Top Secret Mom of the Year of Award, I took them to a park during each estimate - I have a feeling I will be waiting for my trophy for quite some time. . .)

8. Went to a friend's house for lunch so Will could play.

9. Put both kids down for a nap.

10. Put away folded laundry FROM SATURDAY (okay, so my TSM award might just be taken away for the delay).

11. Put a new load of laundry in the wash.

12. Played with both kids.

13. Made dinner for both kids. And didn't really clean up because I will be making dinner for M and myself later on.

14. Bath for both kiddos. This is where M comes into the picture and I come down to blog and do other non-kid-related things.

Still to be accomplished: Research "sour dough bread starters" (also from A'dell's blog) and think (notice I said THINK) about doing that. Put both kids to bed. Have a "dinner date at home" with the husband. Lots of Little Things that will bore you (like fold laundry).

What did you do today? What is left to be done?