Usually Pierce is pleasant for an hour or two so I can drink my coffee kind of in peace, maybe take a dump with only the toddler watching, slowly ease into the chaos of the day. Not this morning.
This morning he woke up screaming the chants of his people and NO amount of rocking, boob in his mouth, patting his back could do the trick. In the midst of trying to help him, Kaelyn disappeared in the backyard. Naked. Crap. I imagine to eat green tomatoes out of the garden while running around like a crazed velociraptor. I’ll have to deal with her inevitably dirty self later.
I finally get P settled in my arms, in his room when I hear the sliding glass door slam, a quiet pitter-patter and clink – the noise that sends shudders down every mother of a toddler and infants spine – the toilet seat.
Her affinity for needing me to wipe her ass during the most horrible of times never ceases to amaze me. Sure enough the flood of “Mom! Mommy! Moooom! Mommmmmm! Maaaam!!! Mommyyyy!” begins.
Pierce is still, maybe I can geeeently put him down to go wipe the bum of my dictator of a toddler. SIKE. Jokes on me.
They don’t call it the game of life for nothing, right? Ya gotta laugh it off while you drink your coffee with one hand (that you’re 89% sure still has shit smeared on it from the toddler) while you vigorously rock a screaming baby with the other. Well played, game of life, well played.