We've been gone for two weeks to the beach with my family. More to follow on that. However, the events of the morning are just too unbelievable to let pass by.
It's 7:55 am. Already both of the twins have been bathed because Zoe spit up and Tori crawled through it. Zoe, however, has been bathed twice already this morning. After their first bath I had to clean up the spit up on the floor so the whole ordeal wouldn't happen again. After starting a load of wash with the throw up rag, I walked back into the living room, hoping to find that my two naked babies (who I had not yet had a chance to diaper) hadn't peed on the floor.
Hey, a girl can hope.
Not only had Zoe peed on the floor, but she pooped as well. And not only had she peed and pooped on the floor, but...you guessed it...she was EATING her poop. While fighting back my favorite expletive and stifling my gag reflex, I picked her up and plunked her in the bath. Then RAN back into the living room to make sure Tori didn't crawl through or try to sample said poop. She didn't, thank goodness.
Did I mention that it's not even 8 am? And I haven't even had a chance to take my Zoloft yet. Welcome back.