Easy Breezy Street

I'm sort of struggling for blogging material but instead of simply blogging less (never!!!) I'm just bringing down the quality a notch or ten ... and repeating a theme from last week ("don't think that you have things under control because you don't. ever" slash "parenthood is always hard")

Not in your wildest nightmares did you think it was possible to post deux on an already stupid theme, did you?

Well it is ... sit down and have some proof flavored pudding. 

Something really weird happened this morning. All three kids were awake and I took a shower and not a single toddler ogler came to throw aside the curtain and pepper me with whines and questions and demands. And no Theodores starting crying from their Bumbo perches because said ogglers were harassing him. I got two legs shaved, hair shampood and rinsed and conditioned and rinsed again and don't think I didn't stop to realize that I was living the HIGH life for eight whole minutes because I was. So I thought I'd write a post about how things are actually getting maybe a tiny little bit easier because you know ... one peaceful shower makes you a professional parent. Hell, maybe I was even about to graduate from survival mode to "maybe I won't die" mode. Hearty laugh. Keep on thinking, Grace.

But look! Julia decided to walk at Costco instead of ride and Sebastian - who fakes a sneeze .03 seconds after Julia real sneezes these days was like ...

... and Theo was busy rehearsing his meltdown to go down at the exact halfway-through-the-warehouse point.

But you know the walker hitched a ride after I refused to let her park on one of the multiple display couches because the walk from the parking lot made her "so very tired like Goldilocks" ...

Convo on retired baby monitor that she snuck onto the prem ...

Julia: Hey Dad
Fake Simon:
Julia: So how's your day at work?
Fake Simon:
Julia: oh no! you dropped a French fry?!
Fake Simon:
Julia: okay, we'll be there soon to help you pick it up

Julia thinks Simon just sits around and eats French fries at work all day because guess what we do when we visit him? We don't deliver babies.

And Theo melted so loud and so proud that I had no choice but to carry him while I tried to steer the cart around which was about as successful as pretending that I didn't notice one of Sebastian's bombs before Simon gets home to deal wit it. Death by smell is a thing. By the time we got to the checkout I couldn't even hold it against the cashier that joked, "I wish I could sell you another arm!" because I wished that too.

Simon starts nights in two weeks and five days and maybe figure out a way to stay far, far away from this blog because night float hasn't succeeded in killing me yet but this just might be the month. BUT in the mean time ... glorious rotation with only two call weekends and sometimes freedom for lunch!!!

5, 6, 7, 8 and dance. Someone get this boy some Ace of Base and an audience.

And this is before a one Julia Grace looked directly at me and tossed that heart covered cup in the trash ...

 ... and threw one of her more vocal tantrums when I wouldn't lower my already terribly low standards to the depths of despair to 1. give in to her shenans and 2. rescue the plastic.

And then I arrived home with my human cargo to the usual scramble to get everything put away before Sebastian tears into it, tastes it, decides he hates it, and moves onto the next thang. Same song, different week.

Theo refused to sleep until I gave him some Oragel and a long session full of undivided attention (selfish) and I finally realized that one quiet shower does not a know-it-all make. Optimistic Grace for the lose. Just kidding ... everyone knows it's "loose".

vink.