Sticky McStickerson...

I am starting to wonder if I will be sticky for the rest of my life.  I never really paid much attention to how often I was sticky before having kids.  Probably because I wasn't ever sticky.  Or if I was sticky, I would wash my hands and be done with it for another year or so.  But after having children I find that sticky has become a way of life.  I am forever sticky...gummy...tacky...and not in that tacky "I'm wearing teal toe nail polish" kind of way.  (I mention that because I just made this poor choice today.  Not sure what I was thinking.  I think I got caught up in my imaginary "Carrie Bradshaw" life again.  Shari Bradshaw, if you will.  I have a closet full of clothes, shoes and handbags that were purchased when I was under this influence.  Then I come back to reality and find my teal toes sticking to the floor.)  FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!  Where does this crap come from?!! Raisins?  Granola Bars?  Cheerios? Juice?  I wash these children.  I swear that I do.  Constantly washing.  Wiping.  Rinsing.  Can't seem to keep up.  And when I do get MYSELF cleaned up, it is inevitable that within 10 minutes I will touch something or step in something that I missed.  It's like they do it to taunt me.  Like little sticky gremlins who are trying to see how much more it will take before I end up hiding in the pantry in the fetal position.  #Imightnevercomeout  #notabadmomjuststucktothefloor .  My favorite part is when Daddy gets home and in his most shocked voice says, "Why is the refrigerator sticky?!".  I'm breathing...I'm breathing...and in scary whisper I say,  "Be...cause...IIIIIIIIII AMMMMMMM STICKYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!".