winning

With Simon only half way (I don't know how that is possible as it feels like we've already served more than a two week near death sentence ...  perhaps black magic?) finished with this abhorrent (strong but appropriate adjective) rotation, the evenings sans man have gotten reallllly fun. Sebastian and Julia have an impressive knack for timing their most pressing needs for the exact same second of the exact same minute of the exact same hour every single night. Tonight, after Julia methodically ate and spat out an entire tangerine (rind and every bit of juice included) bite by spit by bite again, she was in a sticky, sticky state that even my hygienically cavalier eyes couldn't ignore. I gave her a bath (and by gave I mean plopped her in the pink tub and listened for signs of life while I cleaned and filled the arsenal of night time bottles* the piglets require) while Sebastian's cries crescendoed from his post in the swing in the living room.  After filling the last of the bots, I retrieved the little man and brought him into the bathroom where Julia was starting to do my absolute favorite, "eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh", which can mean a lot of things but this time I put on my translation cap and impressively deciphered that it meant that she wanted up and out of the tub. I washed her hair with one of those baby blue nose suction things (semi-clean ... worry not) while she protested too much to be believable, swaddled her up and took her in to her room to get ready for the oh so blessed bedtime. After getting her pajamad and down, I noticed that Sebastian was a content little bathmatrat and so 

I let him be for as long as he'd hang. Earlier in the eve, I somehow misplaced a really not clean diaper of Julia's. I'm sure I put it somewhere for safekeeping that made perfect sense at the time but I'm not terribly thrilled about it's resurfacing ... whenever that may be.  I accidentally fed Sebastian Julia's almond milk twice (he is still breathing) and Julia pointed at the computer and demanded, "show!". Back up. I thought I only let her watch Netflix when I was in a true bind. Clearly not.  For a small human with a very limited vocabulary living in a house with "no television" (this means nothing as Netflix and Hulu are worthy and adequate substitutes these days) to know that the laptop = 'show'?  I think its safe to say with all of these proud moments combined, my failing work here is done.

*Sebastian is now a fully formula fed babe. We didn't get my thyroid levels straightened out fast enough post-pregnancy, my supply died a slow but definite death, and now the poor kid is poisoned with the powder. If he ever fails at anything ever ... I'll know where to place the blame ... both parties.