I started my job yesterday, although tomorrow is my official start date. The boys and their mom were all sick, so I went over to help her wrangle youngin's to the doctor and then get her a nap. I now have the near permanent smell of rancid baby formula in my clothes (granted, formula always smells four days old and slightly green so that's not all that difficult to achieve).
I love taking care of the boys, really I do, but whatever romance there ever was about motherhood and what it's like has vanished into hour-long temper tantrums, repeated viewings of Sesame Street's "Shapes" show and baby spit of the consistency of egg whites. Full time mothers should earn some sort of public service award, seriously. Or at least earn money. Them's some hard rows to hoe, people.
I think I'm going to try the media diet next week. A limited diet -- going cold turkey might cause the DTs, and people die of the DTs, you know -- , maybe cutting my watching time down to two hours per day. Sundays (since they don't count in Lent, I don't think they should count for a media diet) can be for viewing runs of tv series on DVD while knitting. My online hijinks are to be limited to blogging (three times weekly), email and Ravelry. I need my peeps during this difficult time, you know.
Wish me luck.
Now I have to get to bed. I've fallen, oh, so low -- I have a chronic cramp in my lower back, which cramps up my one glute (and this is why you should never rock climb without ropes, kiddos) so I took a heavy glug of wine to relax the muscle. But I didn't have any clean wine glasses, so I drank it out of my recycled glass Starbucks coffee mug (Made in Spain, according to the bottom of the cup) and I think I got a wee bit too much in the mug. Ooopsie.
Anyway, I'm going to take my sore butt up to bed. Hopefully, I'll be feeling much less sore tomorrow.