Stop! Feed!

Living life in three hour intervals is really getting... old. It's like a very un-fun game of red light/green light. Because one minute you have finally fed the girls breakfast, managed to load and run the dishwasher, and you're thinking of say, eating breakfast yourself... or dare you dream- taking a shower! RED LIGHT! Feed the baby. Ok- we're clear... oh wait! The girls need entertaining (read: disciplinary action and toy re-assignment) And the laundry just beeped. Do you want wrinkly shirts or not? (ironing is a curse word around these parts) Dash upstairs and fold what becomes a couple loads of laundry. Computer time? RED LIGHT! Feed the baby. And that's just if the day goes smoothly.

The wrenches in the plan (I have two) are named Bunny and Squirt. The idea of a resting baby seems to irk the twins. About 75% of the time that I hear little one let out a cry, I turn around to find one or both sisters messing with him. Half the time one of them is holding the "precious." (read: binkie. And yes, that was my best Gollum impersonation) This is then followed by a big, toothy grin and a "Look, mama! Baby! Tiny hands!" quickly followed with "Ooooh, no. Baby sad."

I just need to get through this day. And then! I get to sleep tonight! (Husband's turn for the night shift- I will be medically sedating myself just to make sure I get all the winks I can) And then! Husband is letting me venture out of the house without the kids for a friend's baby shower! This makes me giddy. I'm bringing a salad! And because it's one of my first actual fun trips sans kids, I feel the need for these salads to be fancy. (like putting on all my makeup fancy, taking a shower fancy, acting like that's not spit-up on my shirt fancy) Do you think I can do it? I figure as long as it doesn't involve the oven, stove, or too many measurements, I can hack it! There's nothing more personally shameful than showing up to a friend's house with a bagged American blend salad. So I'll be making these and these instead. Fancy!