The Witching Hours

I can be having the best day ever with my boys.  We do a fun morning activity.  Nobody cries, poops, or misbehaves in public.  We get home and everyone, including Mrs. Yoy, takes a refreshing two hour nap.  We even all wake up from said naps in pretty decent moods.

Then the day begins to get long in the tooth.  Four thirty rolls around and from then onward it is like someone flipped the switch and nothing goes my way.

My evening goal is to get both boys fed, bathed, booked and to bed by 7:15 at the latest. This is quite a feat considering most nights I do this solo.  My patience is all tapped out. Both baby Yoys are cranky.  It just seems like a cruel joke that the most trying part of every day is at the end.

Things that I found adorable a mere 6 hours earlier are making me want to ram my head against the wall.  I feel like I am just spewing the word "no" over and over again.  I am so sick of hearing myself say that.

If I was at an office job, I'd log onto the internet and pretend to work until the clock hit a respectable time to roll on out of there.  Not this job.  There is no phoning this in.

Big E - Why don't you go draw your own bath and hop on in?  Shout if you need me!

Little E - Just hop up on your changing table and change your own diaper!  Try not to roll too much, you are dangerously close to a three foot drop!  Thanks!  

But, I push through it every night.  And just like that the house falls silent and I have survived another day.

The funny thing is, I go in to check on them and they both look so sweet and peaceful and I can't wait until the morning when we get to do it all over again.


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