Sugar and Spice and Everything Strife

Let the Games Begin!

A Gold Medal Performance

Okay, about the two children thing; Some days I think this is a piece of cake and other days I think,

"Oh my God, what have I done?"

While one starts screaming, (usually Chloe) the other starts at it like they're in fierce competition, like they're training for the Whine Olympics which makes mommy want to train for the Wine Olympics. Jeez, not a moment of silence and certainly no shower for mommy. (Luckily, I do rush into the bathroom, usually with baby in tow and attached, and do the one-handed-triple Lightfoot deodorant roll-on technique (1) which I've perfected at this point - hey, speaking of, maybe this should be a new Olympic sport- After all, I get more and more agile everyday and keep breaking my own record. I'd definitely get the gold people.

Okay, so it's official, I really must be insane because, in spite of all of this unabashed, ear-piercing balling, I've been in battle with my ovaries over a third child - my ovies nag at me every once in awhile like they're whispering (2) (English 101 people- personification)

"Have a third child."

I respond,

"No, please leave me alone. This is too weird; talking ovaries?"

ovies respond, in unison, in their little Oompa-Loompa voices,

"We're ready when you are. Come on, embrace the chaos."

Well, I've chalked this up, not to psychosis yet, but to an overload of hormones. I'm sure this urge to perpetuate my genes will grow more and more silent as Libby and Chloe get older and even more demanding. At least, lets hope. Otherwise a new sport will be on the rise and the Ovulation Olympics will soon be born with a bang! (no pun intended)

Oh, my poor, poor husband.


1.) Patent Pending

2.) No, my ovaries don't really talk to me and I don't see dead people or anything. Well, maybe the latter. I have gazed upon the dead staring back at me while executing the one-handed- triple Lightfoot roll-on technique while assuring Chloe that she'll get her precious juice while trying to walk in a manner so that Libby doesn't feel as if she's nursing on the high seas.