It's 24-7; I'm exhausted. I still love it!

It's 3 p.m. I'm listening to my husband snore as he naps in the next room, and I suspect that more of the same will occur tomorrow: more napping, more snoring, more taking it easy. Now I don't begrudge my husband a rest: he works hard every day so that I can stay home with the kids, and I know he needs (and deserves) a break. But right this moment, in my current woe-is-me state, while I'm up to my ears in dirty dishes, unfolded laundry, and smelly diapers, I can't help but bemoan the fact that, as a stay-at-home mom, I don't get a Labor Day.

Despite it all, though, I wouldn't trade my life for anything.

Happy (early) Labor Day to all of you!

Oh, for a pair of pants

My eighteen-month-old has gotten to the stage that I've heard about but never had the "pleasure" of experiencing for myself: she has discovered that she'd rather be free than fettered and has found great joy in taking off her pants and diaper and then running through the house, giggling, egged on, I'm sure, by her brother, who screams and tattles on her.  It's happened three times so far today, and a couple of days ago, she undressed while in her crib, then fell asleep and woke up screaming and lying in a puddle. I don't know. Maybe it's time to get the duct tape out?