Okay, so who else has been totally bummed out by the last two days at RFTM? Trust me, my name’s at the top of that list. Thank you for sticking with me – for reading, for adding your thoughts, for the words of encouragement – it’s helped. Not made-it-all-magically-delicious helped, but helped nonetheless.
So can we please, for the love of all things holy, shift gears into something less doom and gloom? (“Sure! Why not!” says the quietly chirpy voice in my head.)
If I didn’t laugh, I’d have to cry.
** It’s one thing to find Gracie and her chipmunk cheeks stuffed with tissues she found by the couch. It’s quite another to find her hunched over the remnants of a purse pack, smacking her lips and looking very proud of herself. I never thought I’d find myself comparing the fiber content of tissues to any danger posed by the plastic wrapping.
** Late night drama is the worst. The. Worst. It’s the witching hour when I’m already at my wit’s end because sweet Jesus, my children, truly you are my heart and soul, but I have handled your pounding bass and banging doors and scuffles over perceived slights all day long and feel myself fast approaching the breaking point so SAVE YOURSELF and go to bed. Add in the fact that my kid is probably just as worn out and hopped up on hormones and we’re looking at a recipe for disaster. The kind of disaster that leads to one child stomping off to bed with a furious, “Fine! Just go ahead and talk about me now!” Oh my.
** Within the last month or so our 85-pound fluff ball has decided she no longer wishes to jump into the car. Like, ever. She’ll helpfully plop her fat front paws down in the cargo bed and look over at me like, “okay, I’m ready to get in.” In a perfect world I’d wait her out until she got in the dang car herself…in the real world I’ve got a timeline to keep – a vet appointment to get to, classroom tutoring later in the morning – there is no spare time to stare down a stubborn golden.
** The riotously loud nighttime pee. No, not mine. The dogs. They go out every night before bed, without fail, and every single night they bark as if they’re fighting off invaders coming over the fence. What on earth are those dogs barking about at 11:00pm?! The neighbors surely must hate us.
** My dog can eat plastic, tin foil, an aluminum can, and spicy takeout, but give me an Italian sub after 7:00pm and I’ve got heartburn in the middle of the night. Where’s the justice in that?