Not that I would. I love my little squishy ladies. But I've definitely thought about it in the middle of a sleepless night, just tipsy enough on warm white wine, reading a People magazine by the light of Pinterest on my cell phone, hoping the things rubbing on my legs are just Oreo crumbs and not mud because then I'd have to wash my sheets in the morning and I don't have time for such things!
And any mother who says she's never daydreamed about running off to Meh-he-co with Bradley Cooper and a suitcase full of wine and margaritas is lying.
But since I love my baby daddy, and Bradley Cooper hasn't called in a while, I'm gonna be right where I am with my lady loves. And every day it's easier. Or harder. But mostly easier. And it's getting to be so much fun to see the few interactions they have. Addie likes to sing to Tula, and often I'll find her in her crib screaming, "TULA ROO LA ROO LA!" over and over again. It's so cute.
And then there was the time I left them alone for like three seconds and Addie picked Tula up, carried her across the room, and then got bored and chucked her on the floor head first.
But then the next day she voluntarily came up and gave her a kiss, and then I cried so hard Addie started to cry, so that was weird.
And then the day after that Addie kicked Tula in the face while I was feeding her.
But then she shared her blankie with her, something she never ever shares.
And so on and so forth.
It's a challenge, but it's a dang cute one.
9 weeks cute!
(Not pictured: "and blessed with the tears of Jesus")
My pediatrician recommended beer for milk production.
Uh, ok. If I have to.
Apparently I carry Tula around a lot, because this is how I found Adeline the other day with her baby.
And then like this.
And sometimes you need to spend quality time together, but the only place to do that is in da crib.