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Yesterday I literally spent two straight hours cleaning up poop. From 10:30-12:15. (Okay, 1 hour and 45 minutes. Details.) "Blowouts" is not a strong enough word to describe what happened to Nolan and his clothing and the surrounding areas at that time. Three clothing/diaper changes, two baths, and one disturbingly awful load of laundry later, it was finally naptime.
40 minutes later, he woke up and promptly threw up all over himself and his bed. (Fourth change of clothes, third bath, second yucky load of laundry, if you're keeping count.)
(Note: he's fine now. I don't think he's sick. The post-nap episode was the last of it. I just think his little tummy had a problem for some reason with the previous night's dinner.)
It was one of those days where if someone asked what I had done that day I would have drawn a blank, because I really spent most of it washing or re-washing what was basically the same load of clothes, cleaning out the same bathtub, and then rocking the same baby so he could sleep a little longer.
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Clothes. Kid's clothes. Life around here is a never-ending carousel of kid's clothing rotation. I just got the newborn, 3-month, and 6-month bins out of Nolan's closet (only to promptly find a few pairs of "6-12 month" pants that no longer fit and need their 6-month bin home... *sigh*), and am now working on the 9-month and 12-month ones. And the twins are so small (no butts to hold those pants up #skinnytoddlerproblems) that I basically moved the 12 month bin straight from their closet to Nolan's, and now need to do the same with the 18-month bin. Meanwhile there are several teetering stacks of 24 month and 2T clothing that no longer fit on the top shelf of their closet that have no home because I ran out of bins. And the 9-month one has a lid that is VERY precariously, barely closed because with the addition of a third kid's 9-month clothes it has more than reached it's max capacity. So I apparently need to buy new bins. Adulting is hard.
(Putting clothes on is hard, too.)
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Caden's favorite new trick is to do forward rolls (aka somersaults). They learned how at gymnastics: hands up in the air, tuck your chin, hands down, and roll. Except he doesn't really understand the "tuck" part, and always pretends to tuck something in his shirt before putting his hands down and rolling. It's pretty hilarious. His new favorite thing is to push all the blankets off of our bed so he can practice his "fo-wad woes" on the cleared-off space, over and over and over again.
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Nolan is wicked fast. Like, super fast at walking. I know they're not technically supposed to be able to run until they are like 18-months or 2 years or something like that, but I swear that at 12 months he's practically there. Like, he could win baby races, if those were a thing. Put some Cheerios at the finish line and he would DOMINATE. He's a speed walker, for sure.
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He's also gotten really good at communicating. He says "book" all the time, and now says "car", which sounds more like "ca-ca" or "ga-ga" as he watches all the cars out the window. When he wakes up from nap he wants to be snuggled for awhile, but after a few minutes of that he will throw his hand up and point at the cord on the blinds, so we can sit and watch the cars pass by out his bedroom window for awhile longer. The other night we sat down in his chair to read a book before bed, but I only got through a couple of pages before he shimmied down, walked over to his bed, sat down next to it, looked at the bed, and looked at me. Then he pulled his sleep sack out through the bars, threw it on the floor, and laid down next to it. Okay, kid. I guess I'll put you to bed.
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It's ridiculously windy and the weather basically sucks and we JUST NEED IT TO BE SPRING ALREADY. These afternoons are killing us. Most of my friend's kids nap later than mine, so they don't wake up until 3 or 4 in the afternoon, but mine are up by 2:00 at least 95% of the time. 2:00-5:00/30 is a LOOONNNGGG time. Especially if we were home in the morning because then we've ALREADY DONE ALL THE THINGS in our house. It's mid-March. I'm out of ideas. It's not fun anymore. We need to be able to go to the park in the afternoon. Period. And then someone told me that it's supposed to snow next week. After it hasn't snowed here for like two months. We might all actually die. Pray for us.
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(Brooklyn's all "I'm over this boy wrestling crap. So over it." Better get used to it, girl.)
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