Children and corn.

Not to be confused with 'Children of the Corn', although today was nearly as horrific. 

   Now I know in the past I have gotten rather poetic about the raptures of motherhood, but this post will just not be one of those.  Even just yesterday I was taking pictures of my dear sweet Charlotte (3 months old! Eek!) and trying to grasp how she is growing so fast and wrestling with how that made me feel....and today I found myself exasperated with her, fighting back my own tears as she let hers freely flow for the better part of oh, I don't know, the ENTIRE AFTERNOON. 

   And as if that wasn't enough, (which I assure you, it certainly was)  I was up to my elbows in corn.  Sticky, sweet, slimy corn.  200 whole, stinkin' ears of it.

   There's the toddler whining because she needs her lunch, the baby crying because she needs to be nursed, and the corn was something out of a Dr. Suess book, what with the whole, "It was low, it was high, and it kept getting in my eye.  It was here, it was there, it was even in my hair!  You could find it on the table, you could find it on the floor.  You could find it all day long and in the night there'd be some more!"  O.k. I'll stop now.     Those, my friends, are the moments when you look around you and the only thing you can think of is, "So, exactly what sort of coma and/or trance was I in when we decided to first of all, reproduce, and secondly, freeze all of this corn??!!"  

   But then, at the day's end, after you've washed up the dishes and worked out and showered....the girls are tucked into bed and the corn is tucked into the freezer, and the house is quiet, and you feel your sanity returning as you get a chance to blog and think, "Oh, I guess I do love 'em after all."  But hoo-boy in those moments....let's just say the world would have gotten a close-up of a class A specimen of the "frazzled mom" if they would have had a peek into my house today. 

   I'm happy to report we made it through with minimal collateral damage.   I didn't throw any bowls of corn at the wall, Fed-ex any babies to Grandma, and was only snippy to my husband a few times.  So we all survived.  (Right honey, right?)  I'm just glad it's over.  And will think twice, or seven times, about doing that again.

Goodnight.