Hey hey hey.

So Miss Matilda is in a growth spurt which makes her a little crazier than normal (can we say something like "than normal" when talking about someone who's only 3 weeks old?), and I spent a lot of the day preemptively cleaning the house and doing tasks so that tonight when her screaming tapeworm demon reared its ugly head I would be prepared and wouldn't be freaking out because I had to hold her for five or six hours straight when I had tons of other stuff to do.  So right now things are somewhat caught up and clean and I'm all ready to hold that baby--and wouldn't you know it, she's gone back to her "normal" sweet, calm, tired little baby self.

So I decided it was a good time to write a blog post.  Except here's the thing.  I don't have much exciting stuff to talk about.  The babies are good.  It's hard to have two of them when they both need something, but it's not any harder than I expected it to be.  Do I want to scream and throw a fit sometimes when I find myself cleaning the kitchen for a fifth time in a day, and do I want to spout off some cliche mom shit like "why do I even bother cleaning the house?" sometimes?  Yep.  But that was to be expected.  And until I win the lottery and can hire someone to hold babies while I clean (or clean while I hold babies, I suppose--or, hell, do BOTH!), that's what life is going to be like for a while.  Oh well.  I'm trying to savor our moments with these wee ones and enjoy babyhood, even though we all know that babyhood isn't really my thing.

I don't have work drama to share because I haven't been to work in a month and a half (egads!) and because I wouldn't share work drama with you here anyway because I actually like having a job.  And I haven't done any cool home projects (except for Matilda's dresser, have I shown you that yet?) or made any awesome desserts.  I did take a shower today.  And we did cook up some P Cubed for lunch.  And we even went for a walk in our awesome new stroller.  I think those things add up to a pretty big win.

The newest development around these parts is that Charlie is like officially a walking kid.  He'd taken steps like a month or so ago, but never seemed to feel the need to walk because he is basically the fastest crawler on earth.  Then we went to the beach (also, learn from my stupidly overambitious self and don't take a two-week old baby to the beach) and Charlie realized that it didn't hurt nearly as much to walk on the sand as it did to crawl, so he walked.  Just like that.  And every time I try to take pictures of him walking, they come out like this:

Shoot.

I'm enjoying the quiet right now.  While the baby sleeps. . .

And the laundry is mostly done. . .

And the dishes are soaking (my procrastinating strategy to keep from washing them just yet).

And the wine is delicious.  And the Reese's cups were delicious, too. . .

And the pup is cute and snuggly. . .

Later, I will read more of this. . .

And I might even get around to picking up these toys, but probably not.  I mean, why do I even bother cleaning anyway?

  (Note: Matt says that the Fisher Price barn is really Kent Farm, which explains why all of the super heroes are hanging out there.  I always try to make it Animal Farm to teach young Charles about Communism and glue production and whatnot.)