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“Just wait till that second baby comes.  You’ll be begging for help!”

“Hope you don’t like sleep.  Having two kids means that you actually get four times less sleep.”

“If you thought that you didn’t have any free time before…”

For some reason, people feel the need to try and scare the shit out of other people when they are at their weakest.

I don’t know if its that the people doing the scaring want to be “helpful” and “warn” pregnant women or if they are just sadistic douche bags.

Yesterday was a perfect example of why Tucker does the laundry.

Some back story.

Tucker has taken to piling the accumulating dirty clothes on the floor in front of the washing machine.  He had intended to wash the pile of clothes but school and life in general got in the way and he didn’t get the chance.

Not a problem cause I had every intention of being the rock star wife and acting all domestic and shit and washing the clothes.

The past couple of days have been interesting.

I’ve been meaning to write these little nuggets of goodness but just haven’t had the desire to actually do anything productive.

Day before yesterday, Oliver was feeling a bit warm and had developed a dry cough.  Since the rest of the house had been sick, it wouldn’t have been a very far stretch of the imagination to think that Ollie might have been sick.

Our couch is pushed against the living room wall and I had stowed the thermometer and lubricant between the back of the couch and said wall since I had been taking Oliver’s temp while we were sitting on the couch.  ANYWAY, at some point, Cara nabbed the lubricant…and disappeared.

Tucker’s such a giver.

And sometimes I wish that he would keep stuff to himself.

Like his germs.  There’s no reason to share those.

Saturday Tucker developed some kind of Ebola thing which left him weak and on the toilet for a good part of the day.

Monday, I woke up sick.  Luckily, I still had some Zofran left over from when I was prego with Oliver so I took 1/2 of one of those and felt a tiny bit more human.

And then Cara got diahrea for a day accompanied by diaper rash.  So, Cara ended up in a baking soda bath to make her butt feel better.

Cara doesn’t dress herself just yet so Tucker and I have to take full credit for this outfit.

The shirt is part of a PJ set but Cara was getting hot so I put the first pair of shorts on her that my hand hit.  The Tinkerbell socks are her father’s contribution.

Now, Cara would never be taken out of our front door in this get-up.

The shirt with different pants?

Sure.

The socks?

Ok.

The shorts?

Probably not since they’re very obviously PJ shorts.

She was smelling him to see if he was worth eating.

I got book one of the Twilight saga on Friday.  Sunday I got book two.  Yesterday I got books three and four.

I think I have a problem.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about then you probably haven’t been in a book store recently.

The series is actually a teen series and I felt just a tad bit foolish when I put book one on the conveyor belt at Target.  I actually put the book cover down in an attempt to hide the book.

Pathetic much?

After a fairly positive post, I feel the need to balance it out by writing something that I bitch to Tucker about frequently…the concept of a “good baby”.

With Cara, I got a lot of sympathy from friends and family because Cara was such a “hard” child.  No one ever called her “bad” but I definitely never heard, “Oh, what a GOOD baby…”

The questions started the day she was born: How does she sleep?  Is she a good baby?

For some reason, the majority of people link the goodness of a newborn with the amount that they sleep and that makes no freakin’ sense.

It’s been a whole week.

A week [and a day] since we brought Oliver home from the hospital.  I’m really shocked at how quickly the week past and I’m not quite sure what I did last week.

One of the things that sticks out for me from this past week is how easy it’s all been.

The differences between Oliver and Cara at this age are striking.