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Lost: My Marbles


Lost: My Marbles

To give you an idea of how my week is going, I just mindlessly stuffed my daughter’s pants into the Diaper Genie instead of her diaper.

To give you an even better idea of how my week is going, I wrote that sentence 24 hours ago, pre-baby waking up at 9:30 p.m. and refusing to go back to sleep until 4 a.m., then further refusing to nap all day.  Which is why this is the first time I’ve had a chance to write since then.

Pass me a vodka tonic, would ya?  Hold the tonic.

Mr. Candy is on a too-long business trip right now, rendering me even slower than usual and giving me a renewed respect for single parents.  Seriously, single parents.  HOW DO YOU DO IT?  Just managing the logistics of two kids two and under by myself is enough to make me want to stick my head in the oven.  If only to finally know what an oven looks like before I keel over from fatal exhaustion.

Getting out the door with two little ones is hard enough — by the time I’ve dressed the kids, gathered the diapers, grabbed entertainment for the car ride, prepared snacks, searched for my daughter’s shoes, found my keys, changed the newly pooped baby diaper and returned inside to get the kids I — oops! — left behind — Skye has become old enough to enroll in college.  And, thus, decidedly less enthusiastic about the Barney ABCs video I’ve downloaded onto the iPad for her.

But coordinating bedtime with a two-year-old and a three-month-old by yourself…?  Even harder than coordinating a meeting between all of Charlie Sheen’s personalities.  For me it is, at least, given these are the stairs in our house:

No!  I kid!  Ours are way steeper.  And more numerous.

Yeah, a three-level townhouse with bedrooms on different floors (plus an underground garage with — you guessed it! — more stairs) isn’t exactly ideal for carting around and coordinating the lives of two young kids.  So while Mr. Candy is on the road, bedtime becomes quite the juggling act.  My plan is to keep Skye entertained with the iPad on the first floor as I put Drew to sleep on the second floor, then return to Skye and spend quality time together before her bedtime routine on the third floor.

But you know what they say about the best-laid plans:  they go to sh*t when the toddler grows tired of Toy Story and the baby won’t sleep.

After a lot of running up and down the stairs between the two kids, and a lot of singing Wheels on the Bus with Miss Skye as I put her to bed, and a lot of early morning hours comforting Drew* this past week, I’m spent.  My mind?  Toast.  There is only one thought in my weary head…

Skye’s pants!  Damn.  I forgot about them.

There’s not enough Spray ‘n’ Wash in the world to save them now.

*In the little man’s defense, he’s still sick. Yup. It’s been a month now. The doctor-recommended Nebulizer machine hasn’t done much to help his cough or breathing, so it’s back to the doctor’s tomorrow. Good times!

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Candy Kirby is the founder of The Laughing Stork and a professional fun-maker who will never stop chasing her lifelong dream: to find the Pomeranian or porn star after whom her parents must have named her. A humor columnist for Disney, Nickelodeon, Scary Mommy, Reductress and Redbook, she also used to be a staff writer for the soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, where she penned many scripts featuring prolonged heated stares and countless “Who’s the Daddy?” story lines. Candy lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young kids and three rescue Persian cats, the latter of whom are the real brains behind this operation (so send all complaints to them).

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