Just Keep Swimming Just Keep Swimming

Last Monday, my mom left.  Leaving me alone with two Littles.
As she hugged me goodbye at the door, Little One started calling, "MAMMA MAMMA MAMMA MOMMEEEEEEE"  and Little Miss started wailing that I was starving Her to death.
So they say that to learn to swim, you have to jump in the water.
As my mom drove away, that's just what it felt like, diving into a cold, very very deep pool of water, and trying to orient myself.  Which way is up? So that I could start trying to make my way for the surface.  Life with two Littles...here we go!
And how was it, you ask?  Well.  Here are some fine little snippets of our swimming lesson:

1)  Talk about jumping right in.  Little One woke up that morning covered in puke and running a fever.

2) Little Miss did not run a fever, thankfully, but She did manage to puke.  In my EAR. 

3) Also (brace for grossness) just to be sure She wasn't running a fever, I checked, in you know, the usual way you check temperature in babies.  And just as I stuck the thermometer where, you know, it goes, poo came shooting out. The velocity of which doused me right up to my elbow.

4) Little One has had a few "accidents" since Miss came home.  I am not concerned; I was completely prepared for and expecting that.  But it was a little annoying that we had to have two accidents that day, and that each one came within 5 minutes of my happily slamming the dryer door shut and thinking, "finally, the last load is done!"

5) At one point, I noticed that Little One was avoiding me.  In fact, She seemed rather scared of me.  She kept making little yipping noises and running off when I approached.  I decided to investigate.
C: "Little One? Come Here."
Little One comes very unwillingly, refuses to look at me.
C: "Little One? Is something wrong?"
Little One stares at my head, cringes, hides Her eyes, and looks like She might cry.  "Oh Mommy! No!"
C: "Little One what on earth is the matter?"
Without looking, She points at my head, groaning, "Oh mommy Noooo! No like THIS thing."
This THING? What?!  Is there a spider on my head? Have I developed an oozing lesion? OMG, I have leprosy?! What is it?!
C: "What is it you don't like, Little One? Use your words, please".
She is looking at me from the corner of Her eye.  She is completely repulsed.  She literally has tears running down Her face, it is so horrible to have to look at this Thing on my head that She doesn't like.
Little One: "Oh! Mommy! Oooohhhhh.  Oh no.  No like this, cray-ZEE HAIR!"
Wait what.  Seriously? 
Since the day began early, with the puke, I never made it very far in terms of getting gussied up for the day.  But apparently, I was looking worse even than I thought. My hair was so bad it has made my daughter cry.

6) The Hair of Terror was still in effect when my husband came home to see it on me, in my sweats, wearing yellow rubber gloves.  By the time he changes clothes and comes back downstairs, he is in time to witness me vacuuming the floor, and nursing, at the same time.  Se-xy.

7) Someone, curse them, at Little Miss's party taught, described, demonstrated, or otherwise got the idea into Little One's head that it is much cooler to use the step-stool to precariously vault and perch upon the toilet rather than use Her ladder/potty seat that has been working for us so well.  Repeated admonitions have not quelled Her desire to use this fancy new method.  And then.  Just as Little Miss was starting to nurse (the poor thing is starving half the time) I hear violent, panicked screams from the powder room.  I race in, baby still attached, to find toddler, who has fallen into the toilet, booty-first, and is up to Her belly button in nasty-water, and wedged in tight.  


8) Little One tried to put me in time-out for not listening.

9) I put Little One in Her chair for dinner, just after cleaning the floor.  You see where this is going, of course.  I turned around, took 3 steps, and heard "Crash! Splash. "uh oh!""  Full glass of milk.  That stuff hit three different walls.

10) My favorite pair of earrings fell apart.  I tried to fix them, and super-glued my finger to my finger.

11) For dinner, I made leftovers.  Not true.  I made nothing, but I did mention that leftovers existed somewhere in the refrigerator.  And for dinner I personally had leftover chocolate cake.


Now on the other hand, I did manage to give the entire house a thorough cleaning, get fresh sheets on all four beds, wash, fold, and put away SEVEN loads of laundry, take all the trash and the recycling out, make some appointments, get in some good reading and snuggling time with both girlies, and keep everyone alive and fed. 

And so there you have it.
It may have been sort of a flailing, struggling, dog-paddle kind of a swim.  But I think we managed to keep all heads above water.  Hopefully my technique will improve with practice.