I can't deal.

It was one of those, “I can’t deal…” type of days.

It all started the night before when William woke up every two hours, and then he was up for the day at 5 am. 5 am is an unholy number around here. It’s an “I can’t deal with that” kinda number.

Ron and I have been going non-stop these days. He’s swamped with work and studying for a promotion. I’m busy with work and babies. Then there are always a lot of diapers to be changed and babies to feed and lunches to pack and commissions to paint and errands to run and of course, hours of constant crying, fussing, whining, and boycotting naptime.

Needless to say, I was quick to snap, slow to apologize.

"grump-stick" 

(Ron and I like to makeup names for various emotions)

I finally made it to the commissary. We all packed in the car and went together- family style- just the way I like it. The downside of us going shopping together, is we both throw random crap in the cart and before you know it we’ve spent well over what we should have only to find we have lunches, three dinners and well, random crap.

We killed the yogurt aisle, by the way. Hey don’t judge, they were on sale, and girl can’t turn down a sale when she sees one. We’re yogurt eating fools around here, so it’s all good.

After dinner, baking cookies with my little lovely totally healed the blow where the sledgehammer whacked me this morning.

And who knew baking cookies was a dangerous activity? Somehow Krysta gave herself a papercut-ish wound- appropriately on her middle finger. I like to give my "hurts" the middle finger as well.
We’re out of band-aids –mommy fail- so we made our own. Behold the “MANd-aid”- as Ron likes to call it.

Christmas is right around the corner, and that makes me smile. I’m reminded that this too shall pass and that I’m blessed with joy and happiness and peace and all things good and bad and in the middle and in between. I'm grateful for it all. At this very moment I'm thankful for things like when babies do eventually nap. And cinnamon scented Yankee candles releasing the perfect amount of aroma. Twinkling lights tightly wrapped around trees. Mint chocolate chip cookies begging to be dipped in a glass of cold milk. Snuggling with babies in fleece jammies while watching claymation Christmas cartoons. And wonderful neighbors who bring over delicious wreaths that smell of Maine.

Then there is tonight. Thursday. Ballet night where I will pick up Chinese food from the local Chinese joint for dinner in which we carry on to watch my prima ballerina dance her way into my heart.

Happy times to come.