So here I sit. I have a one year old staring at me just about to lose his shit and a four year old pulling the other one's foot and singing Barney.
I'm trying to emit a quiet peace, like a babysitting Buddha. I don't think its working, but I like to think I have quieted the whole house.
I never thought I would consider the dog to be the most mature one in the house.
Besides the poop and the crying, we've had a few moments of pure laughter at this one year old trying to grab his feet and say something besides "da."
I'm not sure I could ever handle this in a full-time kind of way. John has been pretty good about getting them food and wiping butts...but he's always done that for me so..
We still have a thousand hours left before anyone actually heads to bed, but we do have pizza coming, babies are a good excuse for eating crappy food.
On second thought then, more babies!
On third thought....