So here we are in the middle of spring break. I use the term "break" loosely because that would imply that life was somehow easier, or that we were on vacation or something. Ha. Hahahahahaha.
I guess there are a few things that are simplified while the kids are home with me twenty four hours a day for a solid week. I mean, I don't have to get all ragey at the asshole parents in the school parking lot. And the kids do sleep in ... until six-thirty. That's fifteen whole minutes of extra sleep! ... Yay?
What I do get to deal with instead is the Trifecta of Parental Irritation, brought on by an abundance of togetherness:
- Tattling ("He's making a mean face!" "He's hogging the computer!" "He's sticking his penis through the underwear hole and waving it at me!")
- Whining ("I'm boooooooored." "I'm huuuuungryyyyy." "He's bothering meeeeeeee.")
- Pestering ("Can the kid down the street come over?" "Can I have another snack?" "Will you get us some Oreos even though they're not on your diet?")
This is in part why I a.) am crazy, and b.) am severely behind on, like, everything, and c.) have a hundred million gray hairs trying to jack up my Walmart dye job.
To make a long story short, I'd write a shiny new post, but like ... I have the dumb. Whoever coined the term spring "break" must have been talking about the cracks in my normally-intact sanity brought on by seven days of listening to four bickering children.
However: I do happen to be guest-posting over at sKIDmarks today (thanks to
Just kidding, it's about poop.
Because I am nothing if not an expert on that topic, y'all.
Click →HERE← to read it. Go on, I'll wait.
If you're here for the first time from Hannah's blog - or just want to laugh at my unfortunate bumbling through motherhood and life in general - allow me to toss you some fun posts from the archives to start out with. (Also: don't judge me.) Such as ...
... the one where I washed my kid with hemmorhoid pads.
... the one where I was asked the definition of "whore."
... the one where we lied to save a few bucks.
... the one where my son drew me a questionable picture.
... the one where I got sprayed with feces.
... the one where I had a baby with a celebrity.
... the one where I taught my son a dirty word.
... the one where I found Jesus in my mailbox.
... the one where I found poop in a really disturbing place. (okay, ONE of the many)
... the one where my husband compared me to a gorilla.
... the one where I accidentally called my husband a fat-ass.
... the one where I wrote a poem about how my kids are wrecking my stuff.
... the one where I drew a cartoon about what it's like to work from home.
And finally, my most popular post ever. Like by a landslide.
Happy reading! Or at least ... happy shaking-your-head-and-being-glad-you're-not-me.