Day 36- Yearning For Showers

I'm really in need of a shower today, but I just haven't found the time in between sitting on the couch and reading the National Enquirer. My current hair "style" is a cross between a sweaty polygamist bride and a Nick Nolte mugshot which I'm sure is a great mental picture to haunt you with. It's just sunny enough that I can catch my reflection in the laptop screen, and at first I thought a frightened young boy was trapped in there. Maybe I should put some make up on...

Sweetie Pie is having a girls' day with Grandma, and I'm getting a reality check on how often I rely on her for help. She loves helping and I'm not making her do anything drastic, but when Boo has poo from her belly button to her knees it's really helpful to have someone else finding the wipes container while I play "no poo on the carpet". It was great to spend some one on one time with Little Man during Boo's nap though. Maybe I'll tell Mr. Wright that is the reason we don't have any clean cups, forks, spoons, bowls, hair, or socks.

I took another before picture of my kitchen so I'll get full credit if and when I do clean it enough to count as an 'after', and the three-days-ago after is actually starting to look good to me. At least there weren't pajamas in a crockpot and an empty ketchup bottle in the cleaning caddy (when you get desperate for counter space the nesting and stacking starts).

The living room is a whole other story with the laundry monster angrily taking over the couch and end table. On the other hand having all the kids clothes out and accessible really cuts down on the time I have to spend putting together outfits for them. I'll stick with their drawers anyway though because Little Man woke me up this morning wearing a dirty t-shirt and Sweetie Pie's skinny jeans. In his defense he pulled them off flawlessly- I think I'd look like a vertical chicken drumstick, loose skin and all.

Speaking of disasters, we had an earthquake today and I almost had to bust out one of my first aid kits... too bad I needed it for my stupid injury when I overreacted to a tiny 3.8 magnatude shake centered 50 miles away. I was sitting at the dining room table eating lunch when I felt the jolt. Little Man and Boo were safely perched on the windowsill of the second story window (it was closed and the couch is up against it). I was sure this was the "big one" that I've been preparing for in the millisecond that I had to think, so I leaped out of my chair to collect them from the window.

Once I got them out of harm's way the shaking stopped and they looked at me like I'd truly lost my mind (more than usual) I noticed I couldn't feel my shin. No, wait... I can feel my shin and it hurts like hell. I must have caught it on the table leg when I was attempting to fly across the room to "save" my children. That's going to be a fun bruise to explain... and even more fun to shave the stubble off of when I finally get around to taking that shower.