1. I can quote the movie Cars in its entirety, from start to finish. I can sing every song, every note, and every background noise. I hear Mater and Lightning talk in my sleep. I sometimes catch myself singing the opening Sheryl Crow song while I clean the house.
2. There are socks everywhere. Little, white socks. They fall out of the laundry basket, and because Dylan hates to have them on his feet, they end up stuffed in very random places: the couch, my purse, his mattress, his toy box. And there is always one missing once I remove the laundry from the dryer. I have started counting the socks to make sure there is an even number going into the washer. And every time there is one missing. It drives me crazy.
3. I have bags... in more ways than one. There are bags under my eyes, there is a big saggy bag where my cute tummy used to be, there are 2 bags hanging from my chest that used to be all nice and perky. I also have diaper bags, wet bags for cloth diapers, purses (big ones that can hold sippy cups, snacks, toys, and the occasional renegade sock) everywhere. Each bags has a separate purpose. My life has been taken over by bags.
4. My life has also been taken over by laundry. I need to talk to someone from MIT to understand the mathematical equation that occurs when a family of 2 with 3 loads of laundry a week grows to a family of 3 with 9 loads a week. I don't get it. He is so small, and I have said it before, but, HOW CAN ONE LITTLE PERSON CREATE SO MUCH LAUNDRY? It is astonishing. And annoying. I hate laundry.
5. My conversations with adults have been reduced to snippets here and there between yelling "Dylan look out!" and running to get Dylan out of some sort of trouble. I haven't had an uninterrupted conversation since September of 2010. When I hangout with my girl friends who have kids as well, it is even worse. It takes us about 30 minutes to tell a "quick" story. We keep having to pause to tend to our little ones, then it takes a minute to remember what we were talking about, then, because some time has passed since we started the story, we usually have to recap part of the story to refresh the audience's memory. It is really quite taxing.
6. I haven't been out of the house past 7:30 pm in 16 months. Okay, I have been out a handful of times with Jeff on dates, but for the most part, we are home by 7. I used to make fun of parents who let their child's nap and bed time dictate whether or not they go somewhere. Now, I am a slave to his naps and bedtime. I will sacrifice a night of fun for a calm night in, because it means that the next day Dylan will be happier and less likely to drive me crazy. Although a little crazy is a constant in this household. And we like it that way.
A picture of my crazy little man playing the the dirt.
2. There are socks everywhere. Little, white socks. They fall out of the laundry basket, and because Dylan hates to have them on his feet, they end up stuffed in very random places: the couch, my purse, his mattress, his toy box. And there is always one missing once I remove the laundry from the dryer. I have started counting the socks to make sure there is an even number going into the washer. And every time there is one missing. It drives me crazy.
3. I have bags... in more ways than one. There are bags under my eyes, there is a big saggy bag where my cute tummy used to be, there are 2 bags hanging from my chest that used to be all nice and perky. I also have diaper bags, wet bags for cloth diapers, purses (big ones that can hold sippy cups, snacks, toys, and the occasional renegade sock) everywhere. Each bags has a separate purpose. My life has been taken over by bags.
4. My life has also been taken over by laundry. I need to talk to someone from MIT to understand the mathematical equation that occurs when a family of 2 with 3 loads of laundry a week grows to a family of 3 with 9 loads a week. I don't get it. He is so small, and I have said it before, but, HOW CAN ONE LITTLE PERSON CREATE SO MUCH LAUNDRY? It is astonishing. And annoying. I hate laundry.
5. My conversations with adults have been reduced to snippets here and there between yelling "Dylan look out!" and running to get Dylan out of some sort of trouble. I haven't had an uninterrupted conversation since September of 2010. When I hangout with my girl friends who have kids as well, it is even worse. It takes us about 30 minutes to tell a "quick" story. We keep having to pause to tend to our little ones, then it takes a minute to remember what we were talking about, then, because some time has passed since we started the story, we usually have to recap part of the story to refresh the audience's memory. It is really quite taxing.
6. I haven't been out of the house past 7:30 pm in 16 months. Okay, I have been out a handful of times with Jeff on dates, but for the most part, we are home by 7. I used to make fun of parents who let their child's nap and bed time dictate whether or not they go somewhere. Now, I am a slave to his naps and bedtime. I will sacrifice a night of fun for a calm night in, because it means that the next day Dylan will be happier and less likely to drive me crazy. Although a little crazy is a constant in this household. And we like it that way.
A picture of my crazy little man playing the the dirt.
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