Why I so rarely post blog entries

and never get to bed before 11:30.


My life has been a good example of Murphy's Law lately. The things that go wrong for me are minor, but they still add up to an explanation for the title of this post. Take today, for example. Beach was at hockey practice tonight, as he has been many nights over the past few weeks. Finn was happily splashing in his bath when he stopped, screwed up his face, grunted, and just like that we had poopy bath water, complete with undigested corn. I was really hoping we could get him potty-trained without having to deal with this, but that just wasn't in the cards. I grabbed Finn out of the tub and plopped him in Beach's sink to rinse him off, noticing how dirty the sink was. Sidenote: Beach, why is your sink so much dirtier than mine? I clean them at the same time. Anyway, if Beach had been home, I would have told him to clean up the tub and the sink while I took care of Finn. But, since Beach was not home, that stuff had to wait. So, after Finn was cleaned up, diapered, pajama-ed, fed, teeth-brushed, read to, and sleeping away soundly, I went back to the dirty work. Once the poop-water was out of sight, I scrubbed down the tub. After I was done, I thought, I should just clean the rest of the bathroom while I've got all the cleaning stuff out (even though it's already 9:30 - starting to see the problem here?) As I was cleaning the toilet, I accidentally mixed a bleach cleaner with some other cleaner and created some fantastic fumes. When the lightheadedness had passed, I grabbed the bottle of Tilex for the sinks and the cap came off, spilling most of the contents on the floor, into the cats' water dish, and all over my pants. Now I want to yell, except Beach isn't home to be the target, and I can't even blame him for the loose cap, since I was probably the last one who used the Tilex. So, I take off the pants and wash them, wipe the stinging chemicals off my legs, and finish up the bathroom. Then it's on to the kitchen, where I've left a whole day's worth of dishes and Finn has left half of his dinner on the floor. I clean up the kitchen and make my way back to the bedroom at 10:30. But not before pouring myself a glass of wine. In a plastic cup - just in case. And that is why I rarely write blog entries.

Oh yeah, and all night I was wondering what smelled like puke. Turns out it was me, from when Finn vomited his mango dessert on me when I got him out of the tub.

But things aren't all bad - in fact, we've had an exciting week around here. Everyone's mobile - Beach has a new car, and Finn has figured out how to crawl. He's not a speed-demon yet, but he's shown improvement in the short 28 hours that have passed since he first made his way five feet across his room to grab a bottle of baby lotion (this is the thing that motivates him to go further than he's ever gone before?). I'm sure glad I moved all of our guns, knives, drugs, and rat poison into a baby-proof cabinet this week.