I wish I had something witty and interesting to write about.
But I don't. I'm just...here. Present. Accounted for.
Having two chitlins' in the house has given lots of food for thought but has robbed me of my short term memory. I'm deadly serious. I'm forgetting words, where I put things, and I've even had to run through every name in the house before I can remember my son's. Yes, the pet's names came out first. Then my husband's. I think my brother's got in there somewhere. And finally I sputtered out 'G!' as he was summitting yet another piece of furniture, teetering haphazardly on the top and then JUMPING UP AND DOWN.
In all seriousness, I'm actually handling everything quite nicely. I've figured out the baby's cues Manic screaming = hungry. Grunting and squealing = working on monster blowout poo. I've learned how to catch G's wrists before he makes contact on the baby's head and say 'SOFT! Soooofttt!. He's trying to pat, but his interpretation is more of a smack. I've gotten them both down for a nap at the same time. Yeah, I'm pretty impressed with myself. That is MAJOR.
But damn. I am tired.
So, starting tomorrow, I'm going old school and carrying little notebook around with me to jot (did I just type jot?) down any ideas that go racing through my head, before they escape. Because as of right now, my retention level is nada.
I'm just here. And in a minute, I'll have my ass parked on the couch watching the utter filth that is True Blood.
That is, until I pass out from exhaustion about ten minutes in.