A Side of Poop in the Morning

Lemme tell ya a little tale. This morning, I was changing Brook-Brook's clothes when I hear Ell banging around in the kids' bathroom. I call for him--several times--and get no response. Finally he comes into B's room and I ask what he's been doing and if he made a mess? Yes, he says with a twinkle in his eyes. Then I notice that he's removed his diaper--I asked if he went poopy. "Yes," he says proudly, "Humprhey ate it." Gross. I walk into the bathroom and find the pot of the potty chair in the sink. Ell puffs out his chest and says, "I cwean up. I wash it wif soap."



And that is how one becomes obsessed with Clorox and Lysol--even when skeptical of the chemicals in all mass-produced cleaners--AND justifies a morning stop at Starbucks.  Too much to handle by 7:20 in the morning.  The end.

I hope my baby likes caffeine. . .

Things that are getting me through the workday, in no particular order:

*Purchased on my way to work, even though I was running a tad late, thanks to needing to watch "New Olivia" and a cranky 3-month old.

*Kept in the fridge in my office, sanity comes in small, bite-sized pieces.


*My savior nemesis. My friend, Deana, has been known to say that "Diet Coke is harder to quit than crack." Rest assured this is through no personal experience for her with crack, she just means that if she smoked crack and had to pick which one to chose, it would probably be the crack because it might be easier. Got it?