Battles

To start off with, my room is freezing because my sister is staying with us and she needs the space heater. We also need the space heater because the vent doesn't get to our room really well, so it is always cold in here. But she is on the finished porch, where it can get really cold, so she wins. And she's growing a baby....

I am snuggled up warm under the covers. It's approx 8am. The babies have woken to play with the guys, and fierce battle is raging. The little girl is sitting on my arm, and mr. is sitting knee deep in the thick of things, surrounded on all sides.

I feel a hot wetness, but know that she has a diaper on. Still, knowing that it must be escaping from somewhere, I move towards the mr. Within oh...I'd say about seven second, I feel a hot wetness on my back, coming from the thick of things. I scramble up and give both babies a stern talking to about how it's not nice to pee on your mother. They listen politely.

I take off the offending diapers and go to the bathroom (and to get wipes and fresh diapers). I am gone less then a minute. When I come back in the room, he is crying and sitting on the guys, which must feel bad with a bare butt. I can't understand why he would be sitting on them, because I can't see anything and have to find glasses to know what could possibly have changed in one minute.

Well, he pooped you see. On my bed. All over my sheets. And in order to avoid sitting on the poop, he moved over to sit on the guys. Only they are plastic and it was pokey.

I grab him up, clean him off, take off the sheets and towel (from the pee) and decide that before my day goes any further, I need coffee. This was an actual thought. I might have even said it out loud. I need coffee. Knowing that it is waiting for me downstairs, I quickly go down where I am then informed by my sister (who is warm at night due to my sacrifice I might add) that she has had the last cup of coffee.

And we are out off coffee.

So to sum up my morning, I am cold, I am wet, I have despised laundry to do, and I am tired. Plus, I also noticed that my son's poop looks seedy and mustardy, which tells you just how little food he eats (although he is offered at least six-eight times a day) and just how much he nurses.

Well, the guys have been through their first real battle, so I suppose I should go and clean them up.