Holy cow, something I never planned on was having children much less having them in the fall. That means a long hot summer. Hotter than the average hell in TN. In this version of hell your thighs rub together, your clothes are consistently sweaty under the dunlaps and you feel about 10 heavier than you are.
Oh so gone this time are the funny stories about gelatinous bellies while shopping and luxuriously lounging around wondering what's growing in there and names and advice books. I'm chasing a toddler and I don't mean that in a figurative way - it's so literal it hurts! I had friends over the other day and instead of a nice visit I ran from room to room saying stuff like "no hands in the toilet", "keep your clothes on please", "yes, those are Mommy's boots clomp clomp clomp" ," Sorry Caillou's gone night night" , " yes, that's toilet paper", " bye bye poop". I mean, really, it was non stop from room to room with an occasional exasperated inquiry if my guests wanted something to drink or if they were doing ok in there.
I wouldn't say their visit was a dismal failure on my part though; she is older than me ( omg, is that possible?!) and is pregnant with her first child. Just call it a peering into the future kind of visit. No sugar coating going on here. Why shouldn't I give an accurate representation of life at a toddler's house? That's just wrong.
Like the 8 limbs of yoga, a pregnant mother of a toddler has to have the capacity of 8 hands worth of multitasking. Hold the 30 pound toddler with all his blankies and cars, and a supply bag, and my bag with phone and essential electronics. Probably a stuffed animal strangling in a side belt loop. Yep, I have reached pack mule status and I envision me doing this up the Grand Canyon but really I'm just climbing the stairs to get into my house. Criminy, it's no wonder I'm thinner this time. Excerise? Who needs THAT crap?
No matter how much smaller I am there is no escaping the heat and the potential for it draining the life right out of a gal. Or stuffing it all in her feet. My God, I had to go get clunky Dansko clogs to accommodate these babies and I don't even care if I look like one of those books where you match the bottom half with the top half and get weird combos. Add dutch clogs to any outfit and it looks bad so who cares at this point. Now make them wooden and that would just complete the freak transformation.
It's time to sleep and tomorrow is another day. At least we'll be inside. Potty training has begun and saying the word potty 251 times an hour is on the agenda. And so are many sopping towels of pee pee. He likes wearing underwear and that may be my ticket to the nut house. Wish me luck but I bet I'll need more than that!