To preface this story, I will say that I stayed up until 2 a.m. last night. And got up at 8. So I'm a bit tired.
There was some good stuff this evening. I harvested seven zucchini from my garden and fried them up as zoosticks for dinner! DEEEEEEElicious! I also had the kids pick a bowl full of peas, which are now ripe, and some lettuce for the burgers. I made hamburgers with fresh basil, parsley, and cilantro in them, as well as shallots: all from my garden!! They were so yummy. I also made homemade french fries and corn on the cob. I'm amazing. There was so much food my tummy was bursting and the kids couldn't even eat half the fries! =) And it was fantastic to pick the peas from the garden, eat them, and return the pods to the compost in our backyard. Those peas didn't travel one inch by vehicle, and were as amazingly delicious as fresh peas always are. And the zoosticks? To die for. Better than White Spot. (the trick is to add grated parmesean cheese to the breadcrumbs before frying).
Of course this was a preparation intense meal, on a HOT August day in our humid climate, so by the time it was ready I was Grouchy Bear. We sat outside to eat and literally got chased inside by wasps. ARGH! It was SO HOT inside because its summer but also because the oven and stove had been on for my fancy meal preparations. There were over a dozen wasps hassling us though, so there was not really much chance of nobody getting stung, or anybody focusing on their food, or everyone not starting to cry. Sweating inside really was the better alternative.
So after dinner the kids are
ME HAF TO GO POOP ME HAF TO GO POOP MOMMY MOMMY HELP ME ME HAF TO GO POOP!
And it's running down his leg, plop, plop onto his feet and the bath mat and the bath toys and, and, and....
I wrestle off his shitty underwear and he slides onto the toilet backwards and the backs of his legs are covered in poop so now there is shit EVERYWHERE. Toilet lid, seat, bowl, floor, me, him, the stool, and the wall.
O. M. G.
Baby still in the tub! Crying because it stinks! Older children still frantically attempting to establish WW III before mommy intervenes or the neighbours call the cops. Sweat still pouring down my ass crack.
I so did not sign up for this.
This was not what I was envisioning when that nurse plunked Ayden in my arms after my cesarean eight years ago.
This was not what I bargained for when we flew to Thailand to scoop Matthew into our family.
This was not what I was aiming for with my first VBAC.
Nor my second.
And that, my friends, is parenthood.
[SIGN ME UP FOR THE VASECTOMY]