When I was pregnant with The Baby, I can’t tell you how many people asked me if I had lost my mind.

“You are going to have two in diapers. On purpose.”

The funny thing is, I know myself fairly well. I’m not one of those moms who keeps getting knocked up because she LOVES babies. I have a friend who loves babies so much that she swears she will have 9. She says she can’t help herself. Me? Not so much. All those days of wondering if I was a total idiot because I have done everything I can think of and he is still crying. Those days when you hold them all day and they still don’t stop? What now? And then you cross that line and suddenly they TELL you what they want. It’s awesome. Even if what they want is 30 popsicles.

So I got lucky and was able to stack my babies on purpose. Believe me, I know I am lucky that it worked out that way. But I knew that for me, if I got a breath of freedom for just one moment, if it started to get what I perceived as “easier,” The Boy would have been an only child. Seriously. If only for the reason that it actually got HARDER than before but I was already pregnant again. That shipped had sailed.

Which means that now that the babysitter Bob the Builder can keep an eye on The Boy for a half hour while I get my act together, I now have a 16 month old who cannot, if his life depended on it, stay out of my stuff and out of my way. Yesterday he fell into a screen filled with brown ink. He looked up at me with his best, “How the heck did that happen” look and I looked at him with my death ray eyes. I JUST HAD ONE MORE SHIRT TO SCREEN PRINT. I turned around and he was standing on the counter. Danger? The Boy told me he was going to move all the stools out of the room so The Baby would be safe. The Baby took all the stools and pushed them back in the room and climbed back up on the counter.

“MOMMY!!!!!!!!!!”

Sometimes I think it might be better that I didn’t get a “break.” I mean, now I don’t know what I am missing, right?

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