We are deep in the Terrible Twos Jungle. Just a few days ago we passed the half-way mark much to the relief to the majority of us who are on this safari. We would have celebrated that momentous occasion

but just as we passed the mark the Two Year Old decided she had an idea

of her own: a temper tantrum. Why? Mommy dared to shower.

Mommy tried to explain to the Two Year Old that it was fine, that although Mommy was a bit stinky, the idea of having a waterfall in the middle of…

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s opposed to Tennis Elbow. Or is it Tennis Shoulder?
At any rate Little N is requiring a lot of holding.
And patting. My elbow is permanently crooked at a ninety degree angle
and my wrists are both injured. If I were a soccer player I’d be on the
bench. (Principe is making us watch the UEFA….hance the bad metaphor.)
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I almost got all of the ironing done. I almost ironed well-enough to tell it is ironed.

My coffee almost got finished while hot.

The microwave almost blew up...and I am pretty sure my neighbors almost called the cops from my screams.

The pacifiers almost got cleaned.

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:) Just couldn't help myself on the rhyme, but seriously, can you really call it a shower? I have to admit, no one called it a shower except the midwife who told me to use it to wash myself every time I

went to the bathroom for the first two days after delivery. Then she

called it a shower. And it looked like a shower. But I just couldn't

figure it out.

I'm just going to have to say it, and no offense whatsoever to…

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