Erika is reading this!

O my goodness, I should just close this altogether so I can stop pretending that I can blog about life and somehow make it interesting. I will tell you about the poop-fest that occurred this morning. Following a series of time-outs for an unresponsive two-year-old, I was about to cuddle up to me son when I felt a smear of something warm on my arm. Oh, yes, all mothers out there are familiar with this smearing and are laughing to themselves right now and remembering the last time they were pooped on by their offspring. Somehow, his fecal matter had managed to come all the way up his back, out his diaper, onto both of our arms, my shorts, and his ultimate comfort when life is collapsing all about: his blanket.
After running the bath for him (still covered in poop myself), Sariah woke up from her nap, and the missionaries were downstairs in the bathroom/laundry room so I had to wait to do the necessary laundry.
Then my girl was hungry and we were all out of milk. Thank goodness for frozen Eggo waffles. Now I am sure I am the only mother out there feeding her nine-month-old Eggos, but it satisfied her long enough for my husband to valiantly run in with a gallon of milk and run back out.

So I guess I should get my children up from their nap now that I hear Ethan crying "Yucky" followed by some blowing noises. I am afraid, and may not return.
Wish me luck.