I only wish George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg would have been here...

With tpd out of town the past two nights in Silex Missouri (seriously, Silex? At least my brother goes to cool places like New Orleans...) anyway, that meant I was on my own with two under two at dinner time and bedtime [insert sympathy here - sorry, but I gotta keep playing that up for as long as I still can]. Surprisingly though, I wasn't worried about it at all - I'd already had them both alone numerous times and it was no big deal. Last night though? Last night was NOT no big deal... it was, in fact, a perfect storm of a big deal. A perfectly timed convergence of multiple forces (forces being a sleep-deprived mommy, crabby toddler, over-tired baby, hungry and cooped-up-all-day dogs, doorbell ringing neighbor AND battery-drained rainforest electronic sound soother machine) all crapping out in unison to create a massively impressive display of chaos that surely could have been it's own reality tv show.

Want to know the exact moment that broke me? Shane's "wa wa" fell behind the pack and play. I could not find it. It was simply gone (GONE!) even though I had been in sole possession of it just seconds before the unfortunate finger bobble that led to it's disappearance. So, after searching everywhere in the dark with screaming baby on one arm, I decided to deal with it the best way I could... I cried. No, no - I sobbed. Yes, there I was sobbing on the floor... sobbing, people!... wah wah sobs...for at least a minute or two in unison with the other two [actual] sobbing babies. BUT, finally a happy ending ensued as my finger tips located the wa wa and I emerged from under the pack and play victorious, wa wa in hand. Nevermind the unfortunate face full of dog hair or the faint smell of dog urine burned in my nose hairs (yes, part of the aforementioned perfect storm), nonetheless, I was victorious, the storm receded to a mere drizzle and I would live to see another day... the next day...which brings us to today...

Faced with the same MIA husband scenario tonight, I was going to make sure there would be no perfect storm. Tonight I packed my extreme new mommy weather gear: no umbrella, hat, goulashes (what are those exactly?) for me... for tonight's typhoon I was armed... with food. McDonalds food.

We hit the drive thru on the way home. The ice cream cone was supposed to be for me, (only 2 WW points!) but I was prepared to share. I knew I would hear her protests immediately, "eat? eat? Bridget eat?!" So, I willingly handed it over. Worked like a charm. I won her over immediately...until I made a fatal mistake. I reached into her Happy Meal box and popped a fry in my mouth. She saw it. "French fry? French fry" - "Here you go mommy - all done" (she shouted trying desperately to hand me back the ice cream cone.) "French fry? French fry?"

Now, I have to be honest. At this moment, I was beyond proud. She really was MY daughter. She was handing back an ice cream cone for the much more desired french fry. She was turning down sweets for fried food. [A-HA!] We were related... we were soooo... related. (Most of you have heard me say this before, but I would gladly turn down any kind of sweets in favor of a heaping plate of cheese fries.) All was right in the world, my daughter and I were one... and then this happened...

at least Pinka got to taste french fries...
and at the very least, the sky stayed sunny and bright tonight...
not a storm cloud in sight.