Sensory overload

I'm sitting here in all of my non-parenting glory.  And it's loud.

Sesame Street is on the TV for Evie.  Little Einsteins is on one of the laptops for Layla (the annoying one that has the brother and sister running through the woods singing about how they are coming.  Yeah, that's not normal).  And Layla has the loud ass rocket that talks and sings that she keeps bumping so that it KEEPS talking and singing.  And we're all in the same room.

I'm fueled by the fact that we had a great morning yesterday.  The girls woke up on their own a few minutes before the alarm was to go off and they both came and got in bed with us.  Evie first, but she started to play.  When Layla came in and laid cuddled up next to Mike, though, Evie laid down next to me so that she could be like her big sister.  And it was like that, that we hung out for about 5 minutes, together in quiet.  The girls sandwiched between us.  It was awesome.

I tried to kill myself last night.  I've been battling a cold for a while now, but was feeling good enough to play dodgeball last night.  I had a blast, but tweaked my knee, smushed my finger weird fighting a big ugly dodgeball fanatic with her belly fat hanging out of her too little shirt, and pulled my ass.  Yep, pulled my ass.  Today has me limping around with a full blown cold and loving Aleve.  Although the jerks got up too early (6:30), I was able to get a nap in this afternoon.  I still feel like shit, but not nearly as bad as I did earlier.

In the short time it took me write this, Layla's show has restarted on the computer, Evie has dumped all of the toys over the living room floor, and I'm wearing the little plastic yellow glasses from Mr. Potato Head to keep her from leaving me alone.  Now that's creative parenting.