The fun. It’s over.

The honeymoon is over. Sometime between 10:30 and 1:00am last night, reality set in. That’s how long the baby cried…. actually, it’s how long I listened to him. Having done everything I could possibly do for him, short of turning the lights on and letting him play, I finally turned the monitor off and went to bed.

Is it really only Tuesday?

I’m pretty sure the 4 year old won’t even want to come back. I am constantly on his case. Poor thing. But one of us has to concede, and it ain’t gonna’ be me!

I managed to get a bra on today. I had the brilliant foresight to sleep in my sweats. That might be all the further I get today in the care and keeping of Soliloquy.

Thank the good Lord for the old Batman movie. It buys me 90 minute respites. As many as I want in a day. You know, so I have time to change diapers, fix meals, clean up meals, wipe noses, chase a crawler, wipe butts, do laundry (which is multiplying!!), wash bottles, and fish stuff (stickers, dog food, lint and the like) out of mouths.

Wish I had more witty insight, but I’m bleary eyed and crabby. I wish someone would give me a bottle of wine and put me down for a nap.

I just keep telling myself as I scan my Bible’s concordance for sainthood: “This is why their parents need a break. I can do this for three more days.”

And while it’s undoubtedly not easy, I still love these boys like they’re my own. I really do.

Plus, I get to come here to whine about it.

And in precisely six hours and 33 minutes, I fully intend to wine about it.