Ack

She's over there with that other boy again.

You can tell by the title this is going to be one impressive post.

Or not.

I promised to blog each day this week thanks to Jen's challenge and I'm two hours and one more glass of wine away from complete failure.

And even if I keep adding words to this post, a coherent thought it does not make, so I'll just say that I had a really uber poopy crappy frowny face look on life 13 hours ago and I don't so much now.

Last night's post was funny in my mind until I read it again today and thought *insert naughty curse word of your preference*, Ashley, you got one baditude! Get it together gurl.

Then I realized my SAHM or whatever gig as mommy to three gets some new rules of life tacked to it (picture nails and a hammer and me securing the nail via hammer into some super important, everybody stops in their tracks to read it, document):

#1. Yep. Paul will never understand the physical, emotional, psycological and blah, blah, blah toll on me. Neither will my mother, sister, or that sweet cashier who oohed and ahhed over the boys.  That's okay, because we humans seem to be just enough adept at understanding our own problems and only marginally, and pathetically so, capable of understanding others'. Also, just as much, Paul might not ever comprehend my desperate need to MAKE BABIES! *Ok, not the making but the carrying and caring for and going crazy for loving, loving, loving as if it's the air I breathe.

#2.  There is no down time with 3 under 4.  None. None. Zippo. Zilch. Unless you count commenting on blog posts and facebook on my phone with the one halfway free hand I've got while tandem nursing and simultaneously pressing threats onto my toddler to "wipe your hands!" and "hurry, go poop!" and "get away from THAT or I'll put you in TIME OUUUUUTT!".  This is just to say I faced the cold and hard fact that when I've a moment to myself I better get moving because no free moments
 are guaranteed in this life.

I woke up with Alistair with this fitting gift (la monkey) from no doubt escaping his nap Thomas.

#3. There's a season to be super mom and right now is probably not it.  An hour (cough, cough... or two...cough, cough) on Where's my Water and Cut the Rope (or whatever they're called) is not going to be the ruination of my son.  I'm fairly certain my twin mommies would agree I'm in the death valley of that rough patch we commoners call NO SLEEP FOR WEEKS ON END!  If I can finish the day smiling at everyone, we'll call it a good day for a few more weeks here.

#4.  These kids are worth it.  I'm honestly careful to edit out some of my gushing over the boys.  I mean, who wants to me that mom obsessed with her kids?? Who am I kidding?! I do! These boys are great.  The twins are cuddly and sweet and do smell pretty good with a little Johnson and Johnson suds time. And Thomas says funny stuff pretty much every time he opens his mouth... like this morning when he stepped on a UFO (unidentified floor object) [which was one of those nursing pads you stuff into your bra because your chest is clueless about the stops and starts of it all] and said "what is this? a sticker or something?" and, it stuck to the bottom of his foot, marched his way around the sun room before flinging it off in crinkly nose irritation.