First thing the next morning, I heard the kitchen stool being scraped across the floor. I looked into the hallway by the front door and there was Audrey peering into the little entryway between the front door and the screen door where I had put the toys. They were still there of course because I did not have the good sense to stash them in the car yet. She immediately broke down into a tantrum of titanic proportions. UGH! Dumb mommy! Of course this woke Katie up who came running to see what the problem was. She went straight for the entryway, saw the toys and started crying too. My goodness! Are my girls always going to be this dramatic? My guess would be yes, given the DNA that they have inherited.
Sunday night I got tricked into a Mary Kay party so I left the kids with their daddy. I was gone almost 2 hours. When I was headed home, I called to let Vince know that I was on my way. He sounded down so I asked him what was the matter. He said that it had been a disaster and he would tell me when I got home. Everything looked fine when I got there. The house was not charred, the girls still had all limbs attached, Sam was asleep on Vince's chest. What was the problem? Sam had a poopy diaper earlier that leaked everywhere and it was gross and Vince had to clean it up. Big whoop! I do that at least 3 times a day! Welcome to my world, husband of mine. Why do men act like baby poop is nuclear waste? This is a man who can gut a deer with bare hands, who arrests unwashed, drunken idiots for a living and a 6-month old's diaper is gonna bring him to his knees? What a wuss! (Kidding, honey! Love you!)
Well, I should get off here and give my wuss a kiss for letting me get out of the house for a couple hours sans kids. Here's another thought to ponder: Why do I have to ask him to babysit his own children? He just tells me when he is going somewhere and assumes that I will watch them. What's up with that?
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