There are certain people I look up to in life – the men and women in the armed forces, police officers, firefighters, nurses and doctors, people that spend their time helping charities.
And the mothers and fathers of 3 or more children. I bow down. But mostly the mothers because I’m biased.
I am watching my 1-year-old niece, Gabby, for the week. It’s Camp Jules!
Camp Jules is exhausting. Anyone that has 3 kids and says “oh, it’s not any more work than 2” are all a bunch of liars. Yeah, I know – you could say if Gabby were my real kid it would be a gradual addition to the family – pregnancy, newborn, crawling baby, walker. It would be easier. It’s always easier when it’s your own kid.
Let me tell you, Gabs, I love you but you just gave Auntie Jules a slap in the face. WA-BAM!
1 year olds: HARDEST AGE EVER. Don’t let the adorable miniature walking human trick you. Oh, what my memory forgot….
Quick! Hurry! Don’t let her sticky syrup hands touch the new couch! Get her! Ohhhhh. — She touched it, Mom.
Gabby, don’t pinch your fingers on the doors! Gabby, don’t slam the drawers! Wait, what do I have in that drawer? Scott, you think she can reach the butter knives?
Ha! Look how fat the dogs are getting because Gabby keeps throwing them a buffet.
If you wake up that baby, you’re going to timeout for the rest of your life. I’m serious, girls.
Emma! Kate! Bailey! What’s your name! Gabby!
Uh, Uncle Scott doesn’t change poopy diapers. She’s not my kid.
Oh wait. What am I doing setting an alarm clock? Ha!
Mom! Let us out! The gate is blocking the stairs!
Mom! You forgot my seatbelt again! Mom! You keep forgetting Kate’s seatbelt!
Girls, stop calling me M-O-M. Gabby will hear and cry for her mom. Dangit, I said mom.
Let’s wash your hair, Gabby! Look up up up! Birdie! Birdie! Birdie! Look! Up! LOOK AT THE BIRDIES!! TWEET TWEET TWEET! LOOK AT THE FREAKING BIRDIES!
This cereal is delicious. — You used Gabby’s whole milk.
Screw it. I’m not changing out of PJs to drop Emma off at school. These snot marks are like battle wounds.
Gabby, I don’t speak sign language. What are you trying to say?
Hey mom, I taught Gabby how to do KU! EWWWW! K-State! YAY!!!! Watch!
About to take 3 girls to Target. I’ll have two Taurus children. One is Kate. PRAY FOR ME. HARD.
Emma, just let her throw a tantrum. She’ll get over it.
Did you have the washer and dryer going at midnight? — It doesn’t stop, Scott. It doesn’t stop.
You’re getting the snip, Scott. I’ll let the family know to send you get well cards.
No, Gabby! No stairs! — Juwee! No! No no!
Oh, there’s no relaxing until Gabby is in a highchair or in her pack n play.
Bug, her dad just told me I can tell Gabby to “man up” when she starts crying. Gabby! Man up!
Gabby, keep your bow in. If your mom sees a picture of you without a bow, we’ll never see each other again.
5:30 am. — JU-WEEEEEEE! JU-WEEEEEEEEE! — Camp doesn’t start now, Gabby!
Why does Gabby keep saying Bill? — I taught her about Bill Snyder today.
I’ll take the slap in the face just because it’s you, Gabby. Slap me all you want. You won’t remember this year’s Camp Jules when you’re older, anyway.
I probably won’t either. 1-year-olds are GREAT.