Bath time is one of my favorite times of the day. Stella's normally napping and Chloe endlessly entertains herself until I drag her out of the tub, pruned and wrinkled.
I love it because I can sit on the bathroom floor and do absolutely nothing. Or sometimes I read. Or surf the internet. Or nap. Totally kidding. Or rock slowly in the corner. I might be kidding about that one. But mainly I just sit and think. Sad I know.
So here's what I've been thinking about.
If the bath is littered with 532 spaggettios, does it really count as a bath?
Why does my daughter think it so funny to drink dirty bath water out of a cup?
That can't be good for her, right?
And finally, why does the bathtub still smell like birthday cake icing? I've scrubbed and scrubbed the bathtub and the smell is still there.
Well, maybe I haven't scrubbed the bathtub. Haven't it in quite a while. But you'd be remiss to think that I haven't thought about it every time I'm in there.
And I've decided that if this is what I think about (when I have the time to sit and think), then I must have 3.58 brain cells left.
I think Jason's going to send me back into the workforce so that someone else can care for our children. I've made more mistakes with the girls this week. The first involved Chloe and the car floorboard, and the second I can't even talk about. I can't look at myself in the mirror. And I cry whenever I think about it. But I will tell you that it included a tired mom at 2 in the morning, a couch, a 6-week old who likes to roll off said couch, and the living room floor. Geez, I might be the worst mom yet.
This is how Jason was greeted when he came home from work yesterday.
Apparently, amongst all of my other inadequacies, I can't even keep our kids properly clothed.
Bare naked Chloe who is stuck with a mom like me.
But look at her face. She is happy, isn't she?
And she didn't pee on the floor. Which is always a good thing.
And when this picture was taken, Little Dainty was sound asleep on the edge of the couch...just kidding, she was in her crib. I think.
And I can only hope that my children are having sweet dreams about how much they're loved. Even though they're probably having nightmares of falling through the air to unexpectedly meet the hard ground.
I hope that they know, however many mistakes we (I) make, we love them more than they know.
And I hope that I remember, however many mistakes I make, my girls know that they are loved.
To prove to you that I just might be the best mom in the world...I present to you this little story...
I was about to pull out of my parking spot at the YMCA yesterday, when I heard,
That would be my eldest daughter. Because I'm a complete idiot, I forgot to buckle her into her carseat and she fell onto the floorboard of the car. And she cried and cried. And I consoled (and laughed, and cried) and consoled (and laughed, and cried).
It's one of those things that is not funny (actually, a little terrifying), but totally funny at the same time. Like seeing someone trip and fall. Except that it's your daughter, and I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to laugh at the image of your daughter tumbling from the safety of her carseat.
Here are a few pictures of my girl back in the day.
When she still had faith in me.
Faith that I would at least buckle her into her carseat.
And here's the scene from today. A little wary.
A little scared that she might, at any moment, plummet into the floorboard.
And I'm sure that you're not supposed to laugh at this, but that's just what I'm doing. Because in spite of it being a little scary, it was really, really funny. And because if I don't laugh about it, I will cry. And one more Lashley girl in tears is the last thing we need at our house.
I leave you with a picture of my little peanut. She's happy and content. She's buckled into her carseat. She's obviously yet to experience the ineptness of her mom. But she needn't worry. I'm sure she'll experience it soon enough.
*Post disclaimer: I realize that this could have ended a lot worse than it did. My daughters' safety is of the utmost importance to me. As if that's not totally obvious by this post. I'm taking it as a little wake-up call. I obviously need to slow down a little bit. So that's just what I'm doing. Being extra careful and realizing that I don't need to be in such a rush. My daughters are thanking me as I speak. Or blog. Whatever.
Jason did this for me again last night. This time, I didn't leave notes for him to find throughout the night. I figured it would be thank you enough for me not to wake up barking like a dog and griping him out for no reason at all. I used to be such a morning person, and now I wake up in the foulest of moods. I'm just so tired. And I've been sick for the past few days. And I'm tired. So, so tired.
We celebrated our anniversary last night. It was sooooo romantic. It included zero gifts. Zero cards. A movie that we were too tired to even watch. And a night that was spent apart. Me in the room. Him on the couch. And it included two daughters who still needed our care in spite of the special occasion. They're so selfish.
But I'm beginning to think. It was romantic. He was nice enough to let me have our room all to myself. A bed all to myself. And a full night's sleep I needed so badly. I think in many ways, that's our romantic reality for now.
One day, our anniversaries will be full of trips, gifts, no babies and romance. But until that day, I'll be happy for what we have. Two tired parents. Two precious girls. And a husband who always puts me before himself.
Stella Elizabeth is one month old today. That's right, four weeks of the sweetest little peanut you'll ever meet. This is one laid back girl. She is easy going, and only cries when she's hungry or tired. Other than that, she's happy just to be happy.
I've loved getting to know her personality. I've noticed from the very beginning that she's a dainty little thing. She just seems to do everything in such a prim and proper manner. She even spits up so sweetly. It happens in such a way that she misses her face and spits up all over whoever is holding her. Usually me. And if she does happen to dribble on her face, you must wipe it up quickly, otherwise she gets a little fussy.
She also hates to be naked and really loves it when she's all dressed up. She seems to get extra happy when she's gussied up for church. Okay, so maybe that's not true, but I like to think that is what's going on in that brain of hers.
However, don't be fooled by Little Dainty (this is what she's called most of the time). She is also one tough cookie. She has endured numerous pokes to the eye, voracious pats on the head, and has survived being squashed by a 21 lb. toddler who wants nothing more than to love on her.
But that's how you feel when you're around this turkey. You want nothing more than to love on her.
I cannot believe my darling girl is one year old today! I have enjoyed watching my tiny baby turn into a precious, little girl. I'm so proud of everything she is. She's the funniest, the sweetest, the most loving, and the most beautiful little person. She radiates happiness and has brought out the best in all of us. We met her one year ago, and have fallen in love with her more and more every day since. I can honestly say, this has been the best year of our lives.
Happy Birthday, Chloe Starr. We love you so much!!
I think I'm getting the hang of this two kid thing.
We're finally on a...dare I say...schedule. Or I guess I should say that I've worked Stella into Chloe's schedule.
But it's not pretty. It can get a little (or really) scary at times. And just when I think that I've really got it figured out someone inevitably has a meltdown, it takes us an hour to get out the door, we all have to change our clothes from either a blowout or spit-up, someone is poking someone else in the eye (Chloe), someone is hitting the other one in the head (Chloe), and I find myself saying, "Who's crying? Who has the hiccups? Who pooped? No seriously, which one of you pooped??"
For some reason, the little turkeys never answer me. They just look at me like I'm crazy.
But my day is filled with more laughter than should be allowed.
It is also filled with lots and lots of happiness.
Happiness, because I have both of my babies under my wing. I get to nurture them and love them. I get to raise them. And they can't talk back to me yet, or ask to borrow the car, or go on dates.
And I'm constantly being reminded that I will look back on this time as one of the best times of my life.
Better enjoy it while it's here, right? Poop, puke, meltdowns, excess baby weight and all.