What a mess!

       I am under attack! The Shedders have invaded my home and I am without the proper ammunition to combat them!
        Shedders have wrecked havoc in my home! They have left a trail behind stretching a mile wide. Nothing is sacred! They shed in my kitchen, my living room, my bathroom, my personal bedroom and, (gasp) even my CAR!
       Look! All over my house! Is it a dog? Is it a fluffly, purry, kitty kitty? Why no! It is Mommy 1 and Mommy 2!
       Mommy 1 and Mommy 2 have moved in to my home and with them has come a lot of extra work for me. They brought their little thems, Baby 1, and Baby 2. The little thems don't actually make a mess, but the tools used to sustain them certainly do.
       Across the coffee table and yes, the end tables too, are the ranks of the bottle brigade. This little army snakes its way through the kitchen and they have a sentry stationed all along the kitchen counters and just for the sake of safety, there's a troop on the kitchen table too!
       Mommy 2 requested medical attention yesterday. "Where is the ibuprophen?"
       "Under the bathroom sink,"
       Now, why Mommy 2 needed to bring the ibuprophen to the living room I do not know, but it could be, this big bottle became commander and chief of the baby bottle battalion already stationed there? I dunno, but after about 3 hours I said, "You can put that back where you got it!" Mommy 2 huffs and she puffs, but she does carry the commander back to the bathroom where, instead of putting it back under the sink, she sits it on the counter with the 3 baby washrags and her hair gel. I think she might have tried to conceal these weapons of mind destruction because she removed the hand towel I hang beside the sink and threw it carelessly across the whole shebang. Now, she and I have been at war over this hand towel for months already and I am sure, once captured and drilled about this particular little battle plan, her answer will be, Name, Rank, Serial Number and "I Dunno!" I say, "If you can take the towel down, you can put it back! Why do you keep doing this?" to which she replies, like the well trained little soldier she is, "I dunno."
        Little tubes of baby balm line the edges of whatever surface they were last used near. Dresser, changing table, nothing is sacred. An occasional diaper forgets to make it into the pail designed to staunch the stench. Pacifiers dissappear and are regularly replaced with the unending supply of extra pacifiers kept for just such an emergency. (the lost ones turn up under the couch, in the cushions and surprisingly, wrapped in hand towels on the bathroom sink! )
     And its not just baby stuff! I go to work and I come home and dishes have begun to climb across the counter in a mating ritual with the bottles. Laundry overflows along the top of the dryer where the basket is placed to catch it, all the way to the very edge of the washer and dangerously close to the edge where it could easily "plop" into the toilet. Did any of this make it in to the washer? Nope! No clothes in the washer! That might resemble "work"!
      I could knit a sweater with the lint on the carpet and the dust, well, lets just say, if we moved all the other stuff, we might be able to find the dust.
       I don't bother to ask them to mop the floor because that is above and beyond the call of duty. I come home and cook dinner. They do actually wash the dishes. They do them right before I cook dinner the next evening.
      I go to my car, and coats and drink cans, glasses and bottles remain behind as though they have the power to carry themselves back to the mommys'. I mean, after all, the mommys' have to carry in car seats. The thing is, I often look at all this "stuff" they leave behind and I ask myself, who do they think is responsible for it? I keep my mouth shut because I don't wanna hurt feelings, but damn!
      I am at the point where, I gotta climb this mountain and recapture the battlefield. It is not gonna be purty and I expect casualties. I plan to take possession of all their weaponry and blow it back to the region of origin. I think a huge pile of bottles, blankies, tiny clothes, dirty diapers, clean diapers, seaters, and balmers strategically tossed in the middle of the enemie's camp might just send the message that, this battle zone is now occupied by the reigning Queen.... Long live the Queen!