There must be 24 projects/to-do’s half started, half assed, waiting. . .waiting. . .waiting. I have never been more distracted or more interrupted in all my life. Sure, the kid is contributing to this chaos but I also have myself to blame.
If I could only figure out how to sew, paint, or write while standing, bouncing 20 extra undulating pounds strapped to my chest, things would go much more smoothly around here. But for now, I’m kinda stuck squeezing in stuff during naps. And the naps are becoming more and more scarce.
I severely underestimated my abilities to work with this kid always hanging around; always whining; occasionally pissing his pants and wanting fed. . .
Suggestions anyone? And yes, I’ve already considered lacing his applesauce with the dog sedatives. . .
That’s an empty bottle of rum beside the washing machine. I can’t even get the recycling to the appropriate place without distraction.