One.


Two.

Three.

Three reasons why today, I’m wearing the same leggings I wore yesterday.  And the day before that.  And the day before that.

Three reasons why we’re having cereal for dinner, we need a new plunger, I’ll be working past bedtime, and I have to wash the rug next to the toilet.  Again.

Three reasons why the dog craves skittles, our bathroom door sticks, and I know all the cheats to Lego Batman on XBox

I should tell you…I have absolutely no idea what I am doing.  I get by just by the skin of my teeth.

Man, I wish I knew how long this goldfish has been dead.

I fed the kids, right?  I think?  Wait…yes, there is ketchup on my elbow.

Did Gigi poop?  No.  Hmm.  Then what the hell am I smelling?

Dear God, please make my laptop cord work long enough for me to finish this post and then get the latest on Charlie Sheen.  I mean Egypt.

Everyday, I feel like I am playing catch up, with no time to even catch my breath or sit down, or SERIOUSLY, how am I not thinner?  I’ve eaten a pretzel stick and spoonful of Nutella, and I’m still a little sweaty from unloading the kids from the car an hour ago because I had an important phone call, and I thought maybe, maybe, I could lull them into a nap in the car with a Glee CD.

Spoiler alert: That doesn’t work on kids older than 4 seconds, apparently.

Parenthood is ridiculously hard under the best of circumstances.  Instead of sex ed, high schools should just schedule field trips to my house.

On top of that, it feels like every magazine and fake doctor talk show and old person in front of you in line at the grocery who scolds you for not having a hat on your kid in this cold weather, when IT WAS JUST THERE I SWEAR, sets you up to fail.

Like, down in flames, fail.

But, if you can find that tribe of people, the ones next to you in the trenches, with ketchup on their elbows and huge bags under their eyes and no clue what day of the week it is, and you can talk to them honestly about what it’s really like being  parent when you are busy with work and life and just, everything, then you may just have the strength to get out of bed the next morning and fight another day.

Because, I’ll tell you, it’s a slippery slope between motherhood and agoraphobia.

On that note, I have an exciting little project I wanted to tell you about.  Huggies has asked me to join them for a few months on their amazing parenting site, High Chair Critics.  It’s a great site they created in an effort to support busy parents and the kids we can just barely keep up with.

My first post can be found here.

I’ll be there, spilling all my normal candor and raw, untapped parental genius to the masses, and Huggies will be there with their tribe of brutally honest, hilarious, OMG totally been there, parents, as well as their Little Movers Diapers, which thankfully, Gigi doesn’t leak through, because seriously, again with lugging out the carpet cleaner, why am I being smited!?

(Also, they put winning codes in all the packages good for, like, $5 million in prizes and points.)

(Which is proving to be way better odds than the $0 I win in Monopoly every year, McDonalds.)

Oh look, a disclosure! I have partnered with the Huggies® brand to help promote Huggies® Little Movers Diapers.  I have been compensated for my time commitment to the program, which includes writing about my family’s own experiences from my kid’s point of view, and their never ending experiences with diapers.  However, my opinions are completely my own and I have not been paid to publish positive comments.

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