Monday, January 13, 2014

All in a day's work

I'll set the final scene of the night for you and let you decide what the rest of the day may have been like... 

As Liam lays on the floor of his room, Jerry changing his diaper and dressing him in pajamas... Roman is running in naked circles around the both of them yelling, "This is for you!!!! This is for you!!!! This is for you!!!!!" 


Hi, my name is Lauren. I have two (almost 3) kids and life is rarely elegant... but also often very entertaining. 

On Facebook last night I shared about how my preschooler didn't realize there was a lucite dining chair in his way until he was bouncing off of it like birds do when your windows are clean enough to cause the Windex company to call you repeatedly, begging you to star in their next television commercial. Let's be honest here, and admit that the real star of the story here is me! ME, whose lucite dining chairs were somehow miraculously clean enough to be mistaken for thin air. Don't worry, that's completely ridiculous and will probably never happen again. But in the meantime, let's call a spade a spade, and a tidy housekeeper the eighth  freaking wonder of the world, shall we? 

And since lucite chairs never cease to amaze and bring pleasure to the souls of mankind, let's also talk about the toddler of the house who, this very same evening, decided it was a wise idea to stand behind another one of the chairs and push, slowly lifting the back legs from the ground causing the chair to place all of the weight to the front legs. Not to seem cruel or unaware, I'll include that at this moment, the young child's father cautioned him strongly against the wisdom of this decision... Explaining the traumatic fate that was surely to follow. The young buck, not willing to heed the advice of his father, pushed the chair all the way to the brink of balance as smudgy little fingers made their own unique print as they crept up along the back of the chair.  When suddenly, the child let go! This act of disregard released the chair plummeting to the ground, and,  being unable to reach the ground due to a blockade preventing it's descent, thus preceded to smack said toddler in the forehead, smartly. The belly laugh that followed- by the diapered boy, no less- can only be described as insanity. The belly laugh offered by the father, however, can only be described as completely logical and a necessary part of ethical parenting. 

In other news, Henry's second ultrasound provided good news! That darned femur is measuring just fine, four weeks after the first concerning ultrasound we had. His noggin is now measuring large, though, and the tech wants to see him back one more time to make sure things continue to measure within parameters. At this point I think they should just let the poor guy grow as he will, but I will never fight a chance to stare at the sweet babe on screen and get acquainted. 23 weeks in, and I'm already excited to squeeze his stuffins right out. You know, mom privileges and such. 

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