No more glossing over this two kid thing. It's insane. Someone should have given me the same look my friend Wendie gave me when I told her we were going to tear out our kitchen: a look that seems to say, "Sorry to hear about the cancer."
I still think I would have been my best if both kids had been born six. You know, ready for the school bus, no diapers, sleep schedule. Not, like eight week-old Lump, needing to cling to me every waking moment (oh, and lots of sleeping moments too!) except when I am getting dressed, brushing my teeth and taking my every-third-day shower. Crikes.
And for all those people out there saying, "Children are a blessing," I agree. In my right mind, I do. Not in my one-kid-with-stomach-virus, one-kid-CONTINUALLY-in-the-sling, syllabus-for-class-is-due mind. That mind is all crazy-old-woman-with-snakes-in-her-hair right now. And might be for a while here.
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