These are the days...-Mama.

These are the days that I contemplate taking the kids to Nebraska (or at least abandoning them at Aunt Jenni's house). Both kids were very high energy, while I was exceedingly low energy. This morning I decorated the last Christmas tree while Henry was at school. The last tree is on a table because it holds all of the special, breakable ornaments. As I was hanging them up, I contemplated which would get broken before the kids grew up (I hope it's not the Brat Fest ball I got last year.) But my sentimental mood grew melancholy when I unwrapped the Bengals collection (yes, collection). I opened up the ornament of Carson Palmer, Chad Johnson, and Rudy Johnson exchanging high fives and couldn't help but be sad that Rudy Johnson doesn't even play for the Bungles anymore. And now Ocho Cinco was suspended. And on top the fact that the Bengals are now 1-10-1, Chad is one of the receivers on my fantasy football team. And none of my receivers are that good, and how am I going to stay in first place into the post-season if one of my receivers isn't even playing? These are truly trying times.

Henry was fairly good today, despite a few time outs for screaming and loving his sister a little too agressively. To pass the time, we made "cookies" this afternoon.

Okay, it's really a refrigerated pie crust that I needed to use, but we still had fun cutting out the train shapes.

The real culprit of my strife today can be attributed to my one- my own- my Precious. We had to wake this one up at 9 to take Henry to school, which ruined any chance of getting a morning nap, which threw a wrench in my plans of getting much done. We tried to spend some time in the office, but June managed to pull down every sheet of paper in the room and try to eat it.

Later, during a diaper change, Miss Wiggle herself managed to shock, amaze and disgust me all at once when she actually managed to get poop in her mouth. No joke. I didn't realize it at first (it's pretty commonplace to have to put your fingers in June's mouth to fish out whatever she shoved in), but immediately freaked out when I figured out what was in her mouth and now on my fingers. We did our best to wipe out her mouth, called Aunt Jenni (who just laughed at us), then consulted the interwebs for help. Of course, Google "baby eats poop" and the first hit is a blog with the phrase "What kind of mother lets her baby eat poop?!?!?" We're monitoring June for any sign of illness, but she seems fine so far. The worst part is that she didn't even flinch when she got it in there.

And if that wasn't enough, tonight she managed to get into the trashcan (a good 24 inches high) without tipping it over. Her hard work was rewarded with the remnants of lunch and probably tons of germs and filth. I'm not even sure how this happened, but now we need to get a trash can with a lid and anchor it to a wall.

Today confirmed what we've suspected all along- June will literally eat anything. She's like the ostrich that ate the trumpet in the Curious George book. I won't be surprised when she starts catching small game and eating it whole.