How do people have three children?

This will be brief because with a newborn baby who occupies my left arm like a hippy in an endangered forest (happy due date to me, by the way. BEST DUE DATE EVER since I have a baby and a glass of wine instead of boat feet and a belly the size of the equator. I digress. But seriously, high five on that) I have almost zero minutes to tame my troll hair, much less pound out blogs. I just don't. How do people do this? How do people have three kids? It makes no sense to my brain parts.

Let's go over the actual things that happened in this house in the past 24 hours:

1. I had to call poison control. Buh-stell asked me for a gummy vitamin, but when I gave it to her, I was trying to cook dinner while the baby lost her mind. I accidentally left the container open on the counter. She snuck off with it and downed like 15 Gummy Vites. I called poison control with visions of DCFS hauling me away in cuffs while this Trainspotting depot over here went up in smoke. It ends up Gummy Vites are water soluable. She could take like 50 in an isolated incident and apparently it's no big, but I was having flashes of that time when I was a kid and my little brother had to take the vomit meds after he ate a bottle of 1000mg vitamin C tablets my dad called "candy". See? Parenting fails. A learned behavior.

2. I had to google, "brown recluse spider bite fatal". No, no one got bitten by a spider, but I thought I saw one last week and they like dark places (like bedrooms! like baby nurseries! like baby faces in the night!!) Edited to add: When I told my husband about this, he suggested I "keep an eye out". Yes. I'll keep an eye out in the dark while I'm sleeping. Hey, buddy, I'm trying!

3. I decided my oldest child has the diagnosable and 100% real condition of "Oppositional Defiance Disorder" because she smells weakness. I tried to dress her in a pretty outfit to go to a party, not banish her to the basement to kill spiders but she called me a poopy and ran away. Then I cried. And ate chocolate.

4. I picked Bee up from a birthday party and made the horrific discovery that not only had they tie dyed (!), but the favor bag had a trifecta of mom code violations: candy, a microphone and slime. Slime. SLIME. Oh, man, when my kids discovered the slime in the bag, it was like Christmas on their birthday on the 4th of July. Mom! Slime! Can we open the slime? Can we? Can we get it out? No? Why not? Why not mom? Why can't we play with the slime? Why is it just for outside? Can we go outside? I can go outside in the dark! It's not cold! I don't need my coat!

5. I poked the baby. On purpose. To see if she was alive. 500 times.

So I might be scarce posting for awhile. Until I succeed in crashing this whole operation into the ground or succumb completely to mind-bending anxiety, I'll just be over here learning to juggle human beings and googling scary crap. I'm putting the no in November. Seriously, I'm home all day with no job and I can't even eek out the time to put in my contacts, much less follow the Bat Kid story or become blog famous.


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