Along with my credentials as a Certified Professional Wimp and World Class Procrastinator (CPW and WCP, respectively, known in professional circles as a "Full Chicken"), I suffer from a deplorable lack of ambition. Seriously. Put me in a room full of ladders and I will sit contentedly at the bottom while everyone else climbs away.
So, it might come as a shock to you when I say that I am ready for a promotion. Maybe this newfound desire for a change in status has something to do with events that took place this morning: My twins used the toilet as a bathtub and then followed it up by using the bathtub as a toilet. (Apparently there are some finer points of bathing that we need to go over). And, not helping is the fact that Michael seems to have permanently misplaced his ears, and by extension, his brain. "I'll listen when I'm seven, Mom," he says. With the number of time-outs going on around here, I'm almost willing to give into his fondest wish at the moment, which is that I go to work while David stays home with the kids.
Or maybe what's pushing me over the edge is the fact that this sweet little girl:
keeps doing this to her brother:
A case of the bite being worse than the bark.
As promotions go, I'm not looking for anything big or more prestigious. A change in title would do, really. I would like to go from being "Mooooooooom" or "Mamamamamama waaaaaaah" to "Mom" or "Mama", said sweetly and with a smile. That's not too much to ask, is it?
Frankly, I would settle for Michael turning on his brain and Leah putting her teeth away. And ending her run of pooping in the tub.
Maybe I should forget the promotion and just take a vacation.
It would be so nice to let someone else clean the poop out of the tub.