I am sitting in front of the computer right now when I should not be. There is too much to do, and I'm not doing it. On the other hand, if I don't Stop. Right. Now. I will lose my mind, and that would not be pretty. So maybe I should be sitting at the computer right now.

I can justify with the best.

Today...

Where do I start?

Yesterday, Liberty woke up whining (I love her). We rushed out the door to get to Mercy's story time at the library on time. Mercy dirtied her diaper on the way there, and I discovered her diaper bag had run out of spares. I almost had a car accident on the way. I pulled out in front of another car and never even saw it. Thankfully, that driver slammed on her brakes and pounded her horn.

Liberty stopped to collect dead leaves on the way into the library and refused to leave them at the door. I pretended I couldn't smell Mercy's diaper throughout story time. Liberty scattered her leaves all over the story time room and refused to pick them up. When we returned home, Liberty brought more leaves into our house. She then proceeded to rip them into tiny pieces and bury them between the fibers of the carpet. The chunks that she chose not to bury were spread all over the living room floor.

EVERY WORD THAT CAME OUT OF LIBERTY'S MOUTH WAS SPOKEN AT FULL BLAST ALL. DAY. LONG.

When Jeremy came home from work, we rushed out the door to get to the drivers license place in time. They asked for twelve kinds of ID (no, I never exaggerate), and one of mine is packed and in storage. I could not get a license. My car is not completely paid for, so they had to fax a title request to the place in Iowa that holds it. I could not get license plates. Jeremy missed one sign question too many on his drivers test. He could not get a license. We drove to the drivers license place in my car, so his VIN number was not able to be checked. He could not get license plates. We wasted our evening. I wanted to cry.

But you know what? My awesome husband took me to Cracker Barrel instead of back home for supper. (Maybe he sensed we could all die if I was required to go back home and face the mess that used to be called our living room.) And you know something even more amazing? While we were eating, someone from the next table came over and told us how well behaved our children were and what a great job we were doing.

Her seeing-eye dog helped interpret the sign-language she used to communicate.

I collapsed into bed around nine pm, an unheard of bedtime for me, and Jeremy rubbed my back until I fell asleep.

I woke this morning with a renewed vibrancy. Ready to tackle the day with joy. I even had a chance to spend some time with God this morning before the girls woke up, and I just knew life would be grand.

Liberty smiled when she saw me. We ate breakfast together. Mercy slept in. Yes, a wonderful day.

We dropped the car off at the shop for an oil change and a strange-behavior diagnosis, and Mrs. Sue gave us a ride home. (Her husband owns the shop.) We chatted pleasantly, getting to know one another, but Liberty decided it wasn't enough. She waited for a break in the conversation, then she said, "Mrs. Sue, this is Mommy," with her hand she formally indicated me.

Mrs. Sue bemusedly asked me, "Is she introducing us?"

I've been through this before with Liberty, so I smiled and nodded.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Mommy!" Mrs. Sue played along happily.

Liberty nodded solemnly, "Yes, and this is me," she pointed to herself. "I'm Yibby Gace."

Mrs. Sue shook her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Liberty Grace."

"And this is Meecee Dane. She's a sister."

Now, see? It's a good thing I took this computer break because I've made myself smile.

Maybe I shouldn't finish telling you about the rest of this morning that involved a video from the library getting stuck in the VCR and Liberty stringing the tape that used to reside inside the video all over the living room, Mercy having diarrhea in the bathtub and stopping up the drain, orange juice creating a sticky mess all over the kitchen floor, finding out that we are out of laundry detergent on a morning when Jeremy informs me that he is completely out of clean clothes for work and I have no car to pick up some more.

In fact, I won't tell you about it. I'm ready to get back into cleaning it all up. Send chocolate!
Liberty ran today. She RAN! This is the first full-out, long-distance run that I have witnessed since that virus attacked her in early September. She RUNS!!!

This morning, she told me she was a bunny rabbit, and she hopped all over the living room and hallway for the better part of an hour. I turned my back to work on something, (will I never learn???) and I heard the slap of bare hands and feet on the kitchen linoleum. The seal on the refrigerator door made a sucking sound, and I turned to see my bunny rabbit perusing the merchandise.

"Are you hungry, Liberty Grace?" I inquired, using her full name as she now insists.

"I not Yibby Gace," she rather indignantly informed me, "I'm a bunny wabbit." She waited for my apology.

"Oh. Are you hungry, Bunny Rabbit?"

"Yes, I need some cawwots."

"How does a nice bunny rabbit talk?" I prompted feeling slightly silly.

"May I need some cawwots, PLEASE!"

Good enough. "Be careful not to spill them," I said as I handed the package to her.

"I'm going to spill them onto my plate," she reassured me. She chose a green plate to simulate grass and poured a multitude of carrots onto it. I eyed the pile, decided that Chomper would love to finish off the Bunny Rabbit's leftovers and said nothing.

The little hopster is now on her third plate of carrots.

That's a lot of roughage.

I'm just sayin'.
Earlier this month, I put a pink streak and a blond streak into my naturally brown hair. I very much enjoy my new look; it's quite fun, and today, at the request of a couple long-distance friends, I decided to take a picture.

Three year old Liberty was in the midst of her afternoon siesta. One year old Mercy still kept me company, but she is the "easy" one -- quiet, compliant -- at least until she turns two. The timing seemed right, so my one year old and I headed into the bathroom together where I took this picture.

Note to self: Next time, clean toothpaste off of bathroom mirror before taking photos for the blogosphere.

Second note to self: Figure out how to work your camera settings.

Right about this time, I began to congratulate myself on a picture well-taken when I heard a splash from the toilet region.

So much for that "easy" label.
This morning, Liberty woke Mercy before light arrived in the world, and they decided to join me in my big bed. I hoped they would fall asleep again so that I could get just a tad more rest. Instead, they shared the pillow next to mine and wrestled playfully. Occasionally, an arm or leg would jab my side or abruptly smack into my face, ensuring that my dozing was fitful at best.

I finally gave up dozing and rolled to my side facing them. Mercy's head had landed near Liberty's feet, and her feet rested on the pillow next to Liberty's face. Liberty threw her arms around Mercy's foot and began petting it. "Aw, my doggy," she cooed. She touched a ticklish spot, and Mercy giggled. "Such a nice doggy, right Mommy?"

I nodded barely. One of my eyes remained shut.

Liberty continued hugging Mercy's foot to her cheek and caressing it. Then she connected her gaze with mine and proclaimed, "I love my doggy so much, I'm going to name it Mommy."

I have a foot named after me.

Hmm.

Should I be proud, or humbled?
Two little girls sit happily side by side on the living room floor. Two little heads, one light and one dark, bend over a plastic spoon and a Capri Sun straw, stirring something imaginary. Two little voices meld harmoniously together, discussing their project.

I open the shades on the patio doors, allowing morning sunshine to stream into the room. Suddenly, a noxious odor assaults my nostrils, and I wrinkle my nose unpleasantly. "Whew!" I say out loud, examining the two cute daughters sitting innocently before me. "Something stinks!"

One dark-haired little girl suppresses a giggle and takes off at a dead run, careening drunkenly through the living room.

Aha!
Potatoes bake in the oven. Pork chops simmer in their gravy on the stove. The washer beats a down-home rhythm while the dryer sends forth a wonderful, warm, clean-laundry smell that mixes homogeneously with all the others. Willie Nelson lazily croons "Old Buttermilk Sky" in the background, and Liberty proudly shouts, "Mommy, yook! I'm upside down!"

From my living room vantage point -- sitting in the old, soft, rocking chair my mother bought for me when Liberty was born -- a content powder blue sky and wispy puffs of clouds beckon me through the glass patio doors. The leaves of two trees meet up across the way, splashing gold-red and yellow-green together. The sun creates a perfect shadowy pattern on the wall of the apartment building across from ours.

Willie starts in on "Moon River." I glance towards my feet where Mercy grins up at me, the edge of a plastic five from the refrigerator door peeks between her lips. I fish it from her mouth and blow a quick raspberry onto her chubby right cheek. She giggles and then claps when she sees Liberty's somersault.

The cream and pumpkin neighborhood cat, Tommy, peers in our screen door and mrrows plaintively, willing us to feed him again. The girls both meow back at him and rush to the screen calling "Sitty!" They scare him and disappointedly call, "Come back, sitty! Come back!"

Willie switches to "To Each His Own," and my thoughts turn to my Own. I smile, remembering a conversation we had last night and begin day-dreaming.

Daddy will be home any minute.
Our library has a storytime hour every Thursday morning for Liberty's age group. (Storytime for Mercy's age group happens on Tuesday mornings.) Yesterday, our group met at the fire station instead of the library, and this is what Liberty learned. **Mercy is the child roaming the room wearing pink and a hood.
Yesterday morning, the girls and I drove to our new friends' house.

Well, I drove.

Liberty and Emma played dress up in "real pincess cose, Mommy!" [insert huge three-year-old grin here] while Amy and I took turns rescuing Mercy from the staircase and pulling her out of the lovely fall wreath that Amy had on a stand in her living room, and talking. Lots of talking.

Then Emma and Liberty decided to play the piano, and all talking ceased. No, that's not exactly accurate. All hearing ceased. The talking gave a determined effort at continuing. Until we saw Mercy dancing to the piano "music" and Liberty and Emma singing along with their pounding.

That's when the laughing started.
After all the traveling we did last month, I took a break from the blog to get my mind and my house back in order. Actually, the rainy weather and the tiresome schedule I had been keeping combined to put me into a slump. I woke up every morning and took care of the girls all day, but the get-up-and-go in me had got up and left.

I had a talk with God about this slump and my desire to get out of it, and He sent me a pilates video in the mail by way of my friend Brenda. Last night, I sat down with my dayplanner to figure out how my days should be organized in order to fit that workout into my daily schedule. Because I'm easy-going and flexible like that.

Speaking of flexible, I just finished my first session of basic pilates about fifteen minutes ago, and I now know that I will need to rearrange my schedule. The workout will have to take place DURING naptime instead of after. I thought it would be great for the kids to wake up from their nap and stretch and workout with me, but I didn't realize that Mommy on the floor equals children on my tummy.

They thought it was playtime, and boy, were they excited! Mercy squealed and lunged onto my tummy before I understood her intent, and Liberty followed closely behind. My instructor Mari on the video had told me to imagine her hand pressing on my belly button taking it to my spine, but I didn't need to imagine anything. The real thing had been forced upon me in my living room.

The good news is, I feel invigorated and healthy. You know, after that one session and all.

Oh well, I suppose it's all in the mind anyway!
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