It certainly feels like I'm running a train station!
This weekend we chopped down a Christmas tree that would make Clark Griswold proud. And, while I wish I could say I was filled with Christmas cheer, the fun of decorating our tree and making our house bright and merry has totally overwhelmed me this year.
Sometimes your plate just gets too full!
Trying to get to the bottom of his digestive issues, PJ had to be brought in twice for blood work over the weekend. Today I had to take him in for a barium enema. There's nothing like two nurses holding down your screaming eight month old to rack your nerves. To top it off, PJ has a nasty chest cold, which has congested him so badly that he can't sleep in his crib. For the last two days (and nights) he's been upright in our arms, miserable from all his boogers.
When it rains, it pours, and our perfect darling, Luke, has been a three year old terror to boot! The wrath of three comes in waves, I think, and just when I think I have the most mild-mannered, loving and well-disciplined boy in the land, I have a day that proves quite to the contrary. At least the cat still has his tail...
I'm tired and cranky and can't seem to get it together this week long enough to make a decent dinner for my family or run a load of laundry so we can wear socks with our winter boots.
Have I mentioned that I feel the beginnings of mastitis coming on?
I'm going to take a deep breath, make some hot tea, put on the Vienna Boys Choir and then, realistically, try to get some stuff done...all with baby in tow and the three year old begging for another candy cane off of the tree.
I know I have some chocolate around here somewhere...