But! There's this:
This is Hunter enjoying his first television obsession: Paw Patrol. At least he actually learns things that I would otherwise not have had the opportunity to mention yet, such as, "walruses can hold their breath a long time, but not forever." And "bats are nocturnal."
It does become hard to say no to one episode after another when I can actually take care of the baby while it is on. Yes, sometimes it is hard to care for both little ones requesting my attention at the same time, which is 95% of my day. The husband, on the other hand, seems to have it down.
Except for that time he seemed to calm them so quickly that I commented on how well he had things under control. "One is staring at the fan and the other is standing six inches from the television. Yeah I'm father of the year." That doesn't happen often, and Daddy is still the champion swaddler, baby sleep inducer, funny guy, rough houser, dish washer, and baby burper.
This smirk. Amusing, Daddy.
Daddy also has been creating. He hammered out this teepee for Hunter in 15 minutes flat. The kittens immediately claimed it as their own, as shown by the oversized white paws peeking out.
The trampoline set-up took a bit longer, but that's what the nights after bedtime are for, while the rest of us sleep. Next up he is building us a fire pit just in time for the marshmallow and corn roasting season. "Maybe we should go to a corn roast!" said Hunter one day after a particular paw patrol episode. Just wait, we will have a corn maze in our backyard at some point, I'm sure.
While one parent has it all together, yours truly spends the day covered in some present from Josie, usually a combination of spit up and teetee. But she tends to be clothed in similar fluids, since you just can't keep changing a baby's outfit every 30 minutes all day. I have found that if the big brother is being too rough or overwhelming her, all I have to do is say the word spit-up and away he flees. Works like a charm.
Spit-up-covered, baggy-eyed, crazy-haired, and calloused-kneed is the state I'm in lately. The last descriptor is the relatively permanent state of my knees since having a mobile child. I appreciated Megan explaining that she was told they are "good mom knees," since it is caused by the constant kneeling, crawling, and scraping across the floors while playing on it with kids. One of my ankles has developed a nice callous as well from being criss-cross-applesauce so much.
Besides looking awesome all day, I also feel squishy and blobby and heavy most of the time. Part of that could be because I actually am pretty heavy while wearing a chunky baby all day, and also the extra few pounds that I need hanging around for spare milk-making calories.
My stomach is still a bit mushy and my bike wattage is atrocious, and I'm forever glad I don't have to stand next to or race my past, much younger self. But that self had no precious cheering section, and I wouldn't trade that for 100 more watts and a six pack.