(1)The night after the very horrible night was a lot better. Then last night was slightly better than the worst but not as good as the previous, mostly because I had to do that thing that only prisoners of war/captives of purgatory should have to endure. Yes. Change pee-pee bedsheets.
(2)Oh, but thank sweetbabyjeezus that her mattress is no longer inside her crib, otherwise my muffled cursing and super loud sighing (I do my best to pretend I'm not actually trying to wake up the hubby while in fact trying my hardest to wake him up. It's one of my wifely gifts. Or talents. Not sure which, but it's definitely awesome.) may have been not so muffled and more of a sobbing noise.
(3)Okay, time-out while I read Ceci her naptime story and then put her into her room so she can not nap and maybe poop on the floor some more instead.
(4)Did I neglect to mention this little tidbit of delight? Yesterday we were all waltzing around gleefully to the silent tune of a super long toddler nap when I suddenly realized that I was a foolish fool and that instead of leaping about I should be listening at her door. Which I did, whereupon I heard her humming, which led me to open the door. The shrill screams of terror (from me) that ensued thereafter were enough to bring the husband running from the other room.
I'll spare you the gory details, but I'll leave you with this warning: eating two pounds of blueberries could, hypothetically, result in an equivalent amount of purple excrement, left in small piles all over a bedroom as a means of entertainment or something. Hypothetically.
(5)Which was why I was more than happy, quite thankful in fact, to go to a friend's house for dinner and
(6)Never try to parent in a vacuum, friends. Whether your people are online, or in your living room, or both (yay! I really am so super lucky!), you need them. You NEED grown people who've been through it or who are going through it and they will make you feel normal and commiserate and not let you feel like you're all alone on a turd covered island of insanity floating endlessly on a sea of dirty, mismatched socks.
(7)Also, our garden is the biz-omb. People don't say that anymore, do they?