So much to say.....
Such is the story of this blog. Wow, I have really neglected it, and my fellow blogging buddies. But seriously, if I had time to say it right now, I would spell out all the reasons why I didn't blog for so long, and why now that I am back, I still find so little time to say all the crap I wanna say. But I will eventually, and you can take that as a threat.
Here is a sample of my day so you have an understanding of why blogging falls short on my priority list:
5:45am Finally drag my spent carcass out of bed after hubs has been gently caressing me, then tapping me, then flicking me, then smacking me for at least 45 minutes to try and wake my sorry ass up.
6am Start trying to coax Makena out of bed as sweetly and wonderfully as possible otherwise the punches start flying and the screaming starts--her, not me.
6:15am Finally get Makena dressed and downstairs and start the next battle: trying to brush her hair.
6:30 Pack Kaili's bottles and shit, along with pumping accoutrements; try and stuff my face with cereal or anything closely resembling breakfast.
6:45am Wake Kaili, change diaper, dress her, offer her at least one engorged boob.
7am Out of house (on a good day), in the car, and settle into morning rush hour traffic, hope that Kaili falls back asleep without any screaming, and try not to nod off during the 45min-1hour commute.
8am Arrive at care-giver' s house, thrust engorged boob #2 in Kaili's face while still in car, burp kid, try and avoid flying spit-up on work clothes, drop off at care-giver's and try not to grab kid and run into hills all the while telling myself that my family can live on peanut butter and jelly, be happy living in a tent on the beach, wearing clothes fashioned from ocean debris.
8:30am Arrive at a thankless job, at which my boss is still treating me like shit because I had the gall to get pg and take a 4mo. Maternity leave (long story that I will prolly write about some other time).
From 8:30am to 4pm Try and look productive even when daydreaming about girls and in between strapping on the P*imp N Style 2x's throughout the day.
4pm Hightail it outta there! Speed on over to care-giver's house, scoop up sorely missed baby in my arms, smother her with kisses, get detailed report on how many shits she took and volume of said shits, also receive reports on number of smiles, coos, zerbets, and generally cute things she did while away from me.
4:15pm Head over to Makena's school, hope the baby doesn't fall asleep on the way, pick up Makena and listen to all her stories about how much she hates her teacher, the asshole kids that pick on her, and her general dislike of 1st grade and the mounds of homework her Nazi of a teacher assigned to her that day. Give Makena lots of hugs, kisses, and positive words of wisdom and fantasize about kicking the ass of the big girl in 5th grade that always picks on my precious cherub.
4:30-6pm Depending upon the day and how many assholes are on the road, this is the usual time that the girls and I spend commuting back home. During which time, we sing, play I Spy, girl-talk, Makena usually gives Kaili a bottle, tries to keep her entertained, Makena and I strike bargains about getting the aforementioned homework completed, and try to keep the bickering and the mutiny at bay over the pain-in-mamma's-ass homework. All that peppered with comments on jerk drivers and wishing we could invent flying cars.
6pm-8pm Try to get Makena to not hate The Man, stick with the program, and complete her homework with as little tantruming, time-outs, and name calling as possible (her, not us). Try to fit in a nutritionally balanced dinner (yeah, right), prepared by the hubs. Insert my boobs in Kaili's face way too often because she likes to make up for missed mommy time by incessant nursing. Plop the little one in her newly purchased high chair, stuff her with organic rice cereal prepared with breast-milk, introduce the "yellow veggies" and convince her that they are the nectar of the gods and much preferable to the crap the big ones in the house are shoveling into their mouths. Wash and sterilize bottles and baby paraphenalia because I am obsessive and will practice any kind of voodoo to prevent the little one from catching all the lovely bugs and virus' that prey on day-care babies (so far so good, no illnesses yet *knocking on wood, saying 10 hail Mary's, throwing a pinch of salt over shoulder, clicking heels together 10 times*). Get the girls bathed, pajama-ed (in Makena's case, convince her to wear some clothes for a change, girl has nudist tendencies), and calmed down and prepped for the big finish: BED.
8pm-9pm Struggle to make that bed thing a reality.
9pm Look around the house and wish I could afford a cleaning lady, or at least perfect human cloning so that I can have 2 of me to get all the things that I don't have time for completed.
9:05 Stop daydreaming and give up on the idea of tidying up or getting anything else done and collapse in a catatonic heap somewhere and say a little silent prayer that this will be the night that I get at least 5 hours of continuous sleep.
For the rest of the night: somehow lose track of time by watching tv, surfing the web to check up on fellow bloggers and long lost sistas, and not accomplishing much of anything. Drag my ass to bed, but then realize that I cannot fall asleep because the hubs is snoring so loudly that I think a freight train is in my boudoir, I can't stop my mind from churning and thinking about all the things that I WILL get done tomorrow that I neglected today, and calculating how much sleep I will get before Kaili wakes up for one of sometimes many nighttime feedings if I fall asleep right this very second....or this very second....ok, this second....no wait, this second....or how about right now.....or now........
Midnight to 5:45am: Hear plaintive cries on the monitor to feed much fought for, much desired 2nd born child. Trudge bleary eyed into room, feed child, fall asleep in glider rocker, place precious baby back in crib, and head back to bed. If this routine happens more than once during the night, then time in glider rocker is spent seriously questioning the intelligence of decision to have a second, sleep stealing, vaginal canal enlarging, milk parasitic, belly flab causing, precious angel baby.
5:45am Oh shit, time to lather, rinse, repeat.
So that is my day in a nutshell. Pretty lucky, aren't I? No seriously, it doesn't escape me, and not a single day passes, that I don't feel this incredible feeling of wonder, that even when my life is at its suckiest, it still is pretty fucking wonderful on the whole. Really. Fucking. Wonderful. I am a lucky individual. Not quite sure who I blew to deserve it all really.