Got a mental picture? That precise dinner is what Husby and I sat down to this evening. Enter fussy toddler and super sick 8 month old. About 30 seconds into diving fork first through steak and potatoes, Bee decides she is not a fan. That's fine. Whatever. You're sick. Here's a banana.
About this time Turtle has figured out he isn't getting any food (last solids he consumed were abruptly 'given back' exorcist style therefore I am avoiding that situation all together). So he pitches a fit.
Rylie poops. Bad. Down her back. I obviously have to stop attempting any sort of food consumption and change her. Mind you, asparagus doesn't retain heat well and my potatoes are looking a tad soggy.
From Bee's room I can hear Husby getting agitated. I peek trough the doorway. Turtle is literally squeezing the sad little life out if a peach slice allllll over his face. Apparently he did not care for Daddy's snack choice.
Bee and I return to dinner. She promptly stuffs potato in my Diet Coke when my back is turned for 1/32 of a second. Isn't that just adorable? GAG. I feel the need to interrupt...myself... to explain that she is going through a stage of independence. Therefore she refuses the high chair, only sitting in a grown up chair next to me in the dining area. Bee is gnawing on a bit of banana that she hasn't spit all over me yet-precious- when she flings herself forward and lands face forward on our tile floor. Banana bits go flying and all I can think about is how ironic it is that I did something similar to this as a child and messed up my two front teeth pretty bad.
Husby and I hold her while icing her poor thick skulled head. At this time Turtle throws himself into a fit of a life time and I am resorted to leaving Bee on the couch alone with her ice pack. Now Turtle has pooped. It's massive. You know that giant robo car thing in the museum in the latest Transformers movie? It's that big. And it smells. Like a dead squirrel. Left in the hot sun. For a month. Next to a sewage plant. In July. I attempt to change him (bless Husby's heart, these types of things literally make him vomit) and I realize it is all over the poor babe's back. Bath time!
You would think my romantic, candle lit dinner would be over by now. But it's not. Whilst washing the baby, Bee discovers her latest potty job in her training potty. (My parents watched the kids today and I guess my mom thought I would want to see it so she saved it.) OH MY GEEZ. True story. So Bee tries to share her work with us. One ripped ice pack and Bee bath later, I am no longer hungry. I'm exhausted. And it's only 7 pm....
How do the Real Housewives make child rearing look so glamorous??
xoxo Summer
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