I’m honestly lacking in inspiration on things to write about, well things other than my boys. They are always…exciting. I feel like ‘exciting’ should be in quotations, for a lack of a better word. It’s more like the ‘I need leashes, more laundry detergent, higher crib rails, …sleep…, bibs…who needs bibs?, shower of Cherrios, lets hose them off before their bath, dear God…please tell him to take a nap…amen’ type of exciting. In my last post I mentioned how I must have angels looking over me since I found Liam commando but yet no messes in his crib. Well, either I need to pray more or the angels have better things to do than keep Liam from finger painting with poo. This past week I have washed more poo covered sheets and rubbed down bed rails than I have their entire life existence. Maybe if I just left Play Doh in their cribs they wouldn’t be so attracted to the tainted goo in their britches. They make brown Play Doh right? They’ll never be able to tell the difference! You’d think the least they could do would be to make some kind of fun creature for me to find, like “look mom, I made you platypus!”, but no… *Sigh*
Abram has discovered the art of freedom (yes, you must say that like Mel Gibson from Braveheart, complete with Scottish accent). I’m not talking the type of freedom where he runs away from me no mater how many times I call for him or chase him down, which he does quite frequently… I’m talking the type of freedom from crib imprisoning parents. At first I thought it was kind of funny and cute to come into their room to discover the two of them crawling up the sides of Abram’s crib to retrieve his lovey, their little toes attempting to stretch out of proportion to reach back for the ground. All this cuteness though has turned to unmitigated frustration. Sean was on a man-date last week when the first incident happened. I had laid the boys down, after much protest that was booming through the monitor they became very quiet…which to me means victory to parent kind, but I was so wrong. There’s one thing about a quiet kiddo, they are always up to no good. After a few moment of quiet I hear ‘thud‘…’thwack‘…’fwoop‘. Promptly turn on the monitor to find Abram happily perusing his vast library, filling himself with sweet literary sensations. Needless to say, Sean’s golfing man-date was interrupted with a series of text messages with the final one reading “bring up the convertible bed rails when you come home”. At this moment, I’d gladly take a rewind on life back to a time where the boys didn’t move much beyond the parameters of the blanket they had been laid on.
This past weekend we stocked up on a few things for the photography business which includes this giant Mac that I am currently typing on. The screen looks like it could swallow me whole, but yet this teeny keyboard barely fits my petite hands. How does Sean even type on this thing??? The other items we obtained were from a lovely flea market we ventured to this past Sunday. Talk about a crazy abundance of random junk! Okay, so the few prop items we got aren’t junk but there was some seriously weird things there. Weirdest by far was the candy bra an antique dealer had. Makes you wonder A. how was it that he came to own a candy bra, and B. if he deals antiques, how far past the ‘eat by’ date is that bra?!?! No worries potential business patrons, we passed on the candy bra. However, we do now have an awesome crate with ‘Deutschland’ painted on the side (we think it’s from a local vineyard), a couple of wash basins, and a 150 year old trunk. The trunk is seriously awesome. It’s possible that I may become a crazy prop collector…just maybe…
Well, it’s back to the pile of laundry the size of a small child calling my name (or maybe one of my boys is hiding in the laundry heap?). I’m sure I’ll have some interesting stories to tell after Sunday, ooo and Friday since we are attending a Medieval Fair, which has to spectacular considering we are in the heart of a medieval country. Bound to be good right?!?!