At this moment, this exact moment, I have a glass of red wine the size of Texas next to me. Leenie is back in Bennie's room throwing stuffed animals at her. Literally.
To make the odds a little more in Leenie's favor, Bennie is trapped in her crib. Leenie jumps on the twin bed across the room and slings whatever animal she can reach in the basket at her sister. Half of them have hit the chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. The monkey with long arms has caught itself on the chandelier and precariously hangs by a velcro thread.
Fuzzy screams from the bassinet in my bedroom.
Where was I when this debacle stared? Not sitting next to a glass red wine the size of Texas, I can say that much. One clue...
Strapped to the plastic cones, I let my head fall back against the chair as the BZZZZZt continues. Bennie laughs. Leenie screams. Fuzzy cries.
Husband is on call.
I have mastitis. How is the word "t*t" in mastitis and I never noticed it until now?
Whoops- Leenie cleared the chandelier and one landed on Bennie in the crib. Bennie is no longer the one laughing. I rip the plastic cones off, spilling everywhere and leaving a bruise. I know better than this- wait for the end of the BZZZZZt before the "suck back in" to pull off. Rookie mistake. That'll leave a mark.
I have sour cream in my hair.
Life's a comedy. I laugh at myself.
Milk is everywhere. Animals are everywhere. Bennie is naked. Lennie runs between my legs to "pat Fuzzy" and help him stop crying. She's carrying two more stuffed animals. Probably to throw at him in his bassinet. I collar her before she can turn the corner.
Into Bennie's room, it dawns on me that it took me exactly three weeks- practically to the hour- for me to admit defeat and realize that life will be different with three children.
There will be less structure.
There will be less discipline.
There will be more wine.
Lots more. Because I have realized that sometimes, in life, and especially motherhood-- they just don't make boxes of wine big enough.