A statue to poop on

Say, oh hell what?

Having just watched a Spongebob video, it was in my head. Oh come on, you all know the one where Spongebob is trying fly and every other half-dressed fish in Bikini Bottom isn't going for it. First they start by shaking their fisty fins in the air (water) and yelling at him, next they start with the name calling and settle on "Birdman". Next, a youngster fish taunts him asking why he's doesn't go and "flap his wings, Birdman?" and his mother says, "Maybe he's looking for a statue to poop on! Tee hee hee he!"
So there you have it.

So a quick little update on my life goes like this:


I'm operating on very little sleep and trying to just get by on autopilot. But the twins are quite wonderful and super cute and Jack loves them to pieces. In fact, he may love them a little too much. Like, I-wanna-hold-em-and-pet-them-and-squeeze-em kind of love. A bit dangerous, methinks.


So I'm micro-managing and slowing losing my mind day by day. And this happens mostly through minute by minute and hour by hour interuptions. I guess any mom or dad can attest to this. Example, I have been interupted about seventeen times since I began this post, I'm not trying to exhagerate, I lost count. Jack wanted to start a computer game, Amelia wanted to be held and Charlie although he claimed he wanted it, he just kept on dropping his binky. Then it was back and forth to the babies' room, changing diapers, and then trying to get them to take a nap. Where was John in all this, you ask? Out for a run. And it all seems to settle down once he walks back in the door and it's amazing, really, and yet so incredibly annoying at the same time.

Nothing big to complain about, this is what we wanted and I'll taking missing a shower all day for it.

Maybe I'll catch a nap when I take Jack to the movies later...