What do all the above pictures have in common? Notice the furry red thing that Maia is holding in all of them. That is her "Bah-Boo" (Elmo doll). That thing is probably so germ-infested that if CPS ever got their hands on it, they would take my children away from me just because I allow my daughter to sleep with that nasty doll. Bah-Boo was bought for Noah by his grandma about eight or nine months ago, but gradually Maia began to take more interest in it and it went everywhere with her. I've run over it with the stroller quite a few times after it fell on the ground. It has had many different types of food and drink spilled on it, including milk; it has been thrown up on; and it has come into contact with a wet diaper. Have I washed it? Well, when I looked at the tag it said "surface washable only," which to me meant I could only wipe it down with a towel, which would do absolutely nothing except add more germs. My other reason for not washing it is that Maia loves it so much because of the smell. Every time she goes to bed she grabs Bah-Boo's hand, puts it up to her nose, sticks her thumb in her mouth, and is out like a light in no time. If I wash it, she might not ever sleep again because she obviously finds the smells of vomit, sour milk, and pee soothing. Last week I even tried buying a duplicate doll to see if she would take it. Nope—she wanted nothing to do with it. Today I finally decided that it was time to wash the nasty doll. During our river trip it had fallen on the floor of the casino and picked up a bit of a cigarette-ash smell, and I felt guilty letting my daughter sleep with that unwashed thing any longer. It came out of the dryer with its fur all clumped together, its eyes scraped off, and smelling fresh and clean. At nap time I crossed my fingers, put her in her crib, and set both the cleaned Bah-Boo and the duplicate Bah-Boo next to her. She immediately went for the freshly washed one, grabbed its hand, put it to her nose, gave a confused look, tried again, and then held the doll up to me.

This morning was definitely not a good one for my offspring. It is Bup's birthday today, and Noah was supposed to go on stage during the church service to give her a present. I dressed him in his nice black button-up shirt and gave him a pep talk about what he was supposed to do. He whined and acted up all morning and made me extremely nervous. When I reached the point of doing anything to keep him from melting down, I gave him his milk even though I knew it was a bad idea. Sure enough, the sippy-cup top popped off and the milk spilled all over his nice black shirt. I rushed him into the bathroom, laughed so he wouldn't cry, and rinsed him with water. He was supposed to go on stage in four minutes. I begged him not to cry, told him he needed to be a good boy for Bup, and rushed him to the side of the stage. He began to whine because he wanted to color on her present. I found a pen nearby and let him color on it. He was satisfied. When it was his time to go onstage and give Bup her present, he walked up slower than a turtle with me harshly whispering "go" behind him. He handed her the piece of paper and walked off. No hug, no kiss, nothing! But I have to say I was thrilled — he made it up without a tantrum and with no one noticing his milk-soaked shirt.

As soon as we left the main auditorium, the meltdown began. There was no bribe or threat that could calm him; he just needed his bed. Once we picked up Maia from her class, we had double trouble. She would not let anyone come near her because she was so cranky. We had to get out of there fast. We did, and when we got home we put the kids straight to bed. When they awoke two hours later, I was amazed at the angels that emerged from my kids' room: they were happy, respectful, well-mannered, and as pleasant as could be. I am in awe of the power of the nap and want everyone to know that my kids will nap until they move out of my house at eighteen. It seems my children go to sleep as little demons and wake up as angels.

Will I ever be able to use the restroom in my own house by myself again, or will I always have little ones follow me in and watch me closely? I wish I could torch all these stupid ants and watch them shrivel up and die. Hmmm... Are there earplugs for little kids? I wonder if my kids would sleep longer if I put earplugs in their ears. There must be something rotting inside my son's belly; it can't be normal for a two-year-old's farts to make my eyes water and trigger my gag reflex. I seriously need to look into anger-management classes for my one-year-old. She just hit and kicked the wall and then tried to bite it after she accidentally ran into it. I feel sorry for any child who ever bullies her. This weekend, on our four-hour drive up to Laughlin, the kids started to get restless, and I had run out of distractions, so I decided to buy myself five minutes of peace by telling them a Bible story.