As I sit here, rain falling without end just outside the window, L is currently tearing the house apart, nail by nail. R won’t stop crying, just endlessly fussing, no matter what I do, or how many brightly colored babywearing devices I whip out in a fury of frustration. I’m dead from the neck up, with no amount of intravenous coffee to cure the scenario. Rainy days can suck it.
Just yesterday, we got some good news about R’s health, so we spent the whole day out in the world, celebrating the fact that for the foreseeable future, we have no worries. We took the girls to lunch at a fun Italian place built in an old abandoned warehouse. Lots of things to look at, lots of fun to be had. Then we spent the day wandering around aimlessly, just enjoying that it was nice enough in this gloomy month to have our coats off.
Today is a different story. We woke up to gray. Just gray. Rain. Nastiness. Right then, I knew. Today would be a disaster. Today would be a day I counted down until B walked in the door at 3:30. The girls are stir crazy, after only 15 minutes of being awake. Because you see, any normal day, we would have jumped from our beds with no regard toward the fact that there were things to be done or food to be eaten. We’d immediately launch ourselves out the front door, to enjoy the blissfulness that is February in balmy, sunny Ohio. We’d romp in the snow, rain, sleet, ice, until our fingers fell off with frostbite and we needed hypothermia blankets. So the 15 minutes of calm that I enjoyed makes perfect sense. Because clearly this is already impeding our day.
You see, when toddlers are confined to any less than 173 acres of running space, vertical space becomes premium. They begin to climb the walls, swing from the ceiling fans, scale the chimney. When babies see toddlers using the refrigerator as their own personal Mt Everest, they tend to cheer them on, in the form of vicious shrieks and ear drum-rattling wails. Then, cooperatively, they decide that mom needs to be a part of this. In the form of crying in the corner as they close in on me, while I’m thinking back on times when life wasn’t about the poop v chocolate debate. PS, it’s almost always poop. Knowledge is power, y’all.
The day is bleak.
As a reward for spending our day out yesterday, our dog has decided to spread his lunch of litter-covered cat poop across our living room. The cat, who fully appreciates her private matters being spewed across the house, is being especially happy. And by happy, I mean she’s violently hissing at the dog with every move he makes.
All in all, it’s been a delightfully wonderful dark, rainy, disgusting day. And it’s only 1:00. Which is an appropriate time for wine, right? Fine… more coffee it is.