My wife goes to these ladies' meetings; they're usually every two to five weeks apart. I'm not really sure what they do there? Perhaps just talk with all the other ladies from our church with no men or children to interrupt?
Needless to say, ladies' meetings are great for her, and a challenge for me. Tonight's meeting did have a great added bonus though: cookie exchange! She's only been home a few hours, so I have yet to sample all of the cookies she's brought back, but I'm sure I will have done so by tomorrow evening.
The opposite side of the coin is the dark side. I get to watch all of the children by myself. Don't get me wrong, I love kids. We did, after all, have FOUR of the little buggers.) =) The problem is the age of said children, and the resulting responsibilities corresponding to each.
Five is a great age. I can play with Little Bear, tickle him until he can't walk, stand, or even talk, sword fight, play with his LEGO blocks, and all sorts of other fun things. Very few draw-backs with this age.
Three is also a "fun" age, the kids are old enough to play with, reason with, and generally have a lot of fun. It does occasionally have its downsides though. Like when one three-year-old "pokes" the other, or takes the chair, crayon, or toy the other wanted, or (heaven forbid) doesn't get the correct spoon at dinner-time! The resulting drama that unfolds normally rivals the best "All My Children" could ever hope to offer. Sometimes I wonder how much I could make rewriting dinner-time drama and selling it to the major soaps.
The real kicker, however, is not the five year old, the twin three year olds, or even the fact that I watch them, alone, for two to four hours. What gets me are the stomach-churning capabilities of our five month old. What, you may ask, can a five month old do that bothers my stomach? plenty. For starters, just seeing the mixture of cereal and peas I fed her for dinner hasn't changed all that much the second time around usually does it. Actually, color doesn't matter quite as much as stench.
I can handle gunshots, blood, guts, broken bones, death, and any number of other things that would turn anyone's stomach. The problem for me lies in bodily excretions, from either end.
Anyone that tells you women are inferior to men... is a full-blown liar, or has never had to juggle the responsibilities of several small children, the phone, and a simultaneous diaper change. Thankfully, tonight I did have the five year old, and he likes to help. I had him hang on to each of Little Squirt's hands while I cleaned the other end. No finger-painting allowed on my watch you know.
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