War Zone

So right after coming home from the hopsital I did the post on Brig's arrival. I wrote about how perfect life was, well that people was the calm before the storm.......

We are 33 days into this adventure and I think I have entered into a war zone!! Don't believe me? Come spend a day at my house.

I think I have been captured by the short ones and being held as a prisoner of war. While breastfeeding one, the other is prancing around just out of arms reach being naughty. I made the mistake one day of saying, "why do you do these things when I can't get up?". Now he taunts me by saying, "try to get up Mamma, just try.... come on Mamma try to get up" while I am feeding Brig. Real cute I tell ya.

Just yesterday, while once again I was surrendered to the couch providing nourishment to the tiny one, I looked out the window to see B with his pants and under-roos pulled down and peeing in the middle of the cul-de-sac for all the neighborhood to see. To top it off, it was the "busy time" in our 'hood; all the kids out playing, everyone driving home from work. No secrets in Brogans pants!

Little Brig is a master of torture tactics. He may look all little and helpless but that boy has a bag full of tricks! Let me name a few.....

First off he has grenades. Yep, little yellow stinky ones. Just as I get one cleaned up, and him all snapped together, I here the next one go off. Although, his specialty is sleep deprivation. Every two hours on the nose I am up. There has been a few times he has given me 3 hours of sleep, but then he usually stays awake for at least an hour fussing after giving me the special treatment of prolonged sleep.

Luckily I calloused quickly.... cause with those every 2 hour feeding I had the blistered bloody nipples. That, my friends, is true torture. The kind that makes your toes curl into the carpet as you hold your breath waiting for the pain to subside. I have victory over that one! My nipples can take any beating that kid can muster up.

He also likes to wait til dinner is just being put on the table to eat, to throw a giant fussing 'I am hungry or poopy or just plain don't want you to enjoy your dinner' fit. Too bad for him, I worked at the hospital and actually like cold food. Take that!!

Taylor likes to pretend she is on my team, but I have realized that was just a ploy. She does nice things for me, helps me clean up after dinner, things like that. But, she too, waits until I am couch bound to show her true colors. A couple weeks ago, she was "helping" Brogan in the tub. She proceeded to put bubbles in his hair using adult shampoo...... guess who got to deal with the screaming 3 year old when the soap got in his eyes? That would be the lactating mommy.

I don't think I can let Taylor or Brogan hold Brig anymore. That must be when they make all their plans of attack......