Thomas the angelic took the jug of vegetable oil out to the deck, opened it, rolled around in the contents, fell, and hit his face. Cleanup has been interesting. He's got the greasy-used-car-salesman bit down nicely. He kept wanting to hug me because he is the Giver of Hugs.
No sleep for me last night except the hour and a half between babies goingback to sleep and boys waking up, and the twenty minutes between Geoff coming down and looking after the boys and Elizabeth waking up. I can feel my conciousness fragmenting.
Geoff's at a dojo thing for a couple of hours, and then I'm taking the girls to Judith's baby shower, if I can figure out what direction to walking in (not guaranteed. This morning I had serious confusion about how to make tea).
I'm planning on writing up a play-by-play account of my first few hours of wakefulness, but not now. The boys are watching a terrible movie, I'm eating leftover pizza and drinking Coke, and one of my babies is waking up and telling me off because no one ever feeds or loves them, poor things. I'll go sit with my greasy little man and nurse while we watch Night at the Museum 2 for the umpteenth time.
First I will feed Thomas my pizza crusts. He seems to want them. He smells like a fry cook.