Lately our days are pretty much guaranteed to be filled with the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. The frequency in which we have to tag-team through a project has become de riguer due to the fact that Stella has a way of making each of us (yes, even eternally patient Steve) reach the point where we are ready to turn in our parent card and send her back to the toddler factory – we’ll even pay the shipping. And if you think I am being dramatic for effect, you are very, very sadly mistaken. It has reached levels neither of us dreamed even existed. I won’t bore you with more details except to say that after a 20-minute, two-parent attempt to get her into her clothes this morning, Stella went to day care in nothing more than a shirt and a diaper (the rest of her outfit wadded in a ball and handed to Grani K as we came through the door).
Our new lives are defined by the following rules:
Nothing is simple.
Everything takes negotiation.
There is a quote that I have been told twice now; once from Anthony and once from my midwife:
“God makes them that cute so you don’t murder them.”
I am thinking of having a shirt made.