testosterone poisoning

I’ve made a decision about our future.

Mark is never allowed to go out of town again. Not unless he takes any two of the following:

1. One of our children (admittedly difficult with the second as it is not yet detachable).

2. Our dog

3. Me

4. A divorce petition

Lily slept really well last night after the fight to get her to sleep. She went to bed around 10pm and thanks be to dog, slept all the way through until 8am this morning. I was dressed, groomed (this does not mean showered, by the way… I’m not that good), and fed by the time I heard her squawk. I had even checked my email. It was a thrilling moment in parenting. I even had a moment where I stood there in shock that there was no clingy, whiney toddler stuck to my knee. Oh course, as soon as I realized she was waking, I went right in, scooped her up and held her on my lap for a bit as she swam out of her dreams and into the world of the waking. As we’ve been having trouble with our cloth diaper covers, I had put her in a ‘sposie the night before. They don’t hold as much pee as one would hope and so when she was finally ready to get off my lap and have her mongo breakfast (traditionally two scrambled eggs, one or two bowls of cheerios, fruit, whatever I may be trying to eat, etc), my pants were wet with baby pee. Sometimes it just doesn’t pay to dress your self on time.

Overall though, things haven’t been going that smoothly. I found myself holding my cranky toddler in the middle of the night on Monday thinking: where would the new baby be? Would I have left him/her in my bed downstairs while tending to Lily? What if that took hours and just as Lily drifted off to sleep, new baby started wailing for his/her boobies? How do single moms do this? How do military mamas make this happen? I can’t imagine how genius these people must be to pull this off and not strangle their children or, more appropriately, the men who got them this way in the first place.

And my husband, that man that I so love so dearly; this is how he responds to my crazy ravings about him not being allowed to go out of town after the baby comes: “Well, I’ll just have to hope no gigs come along.” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? Seriously, if you know, please tell me, ‘cause that just sounds hookey to me. Damn testosterone poisoning.