Take your normal and average 28 year old woman and stick her in a house with four children. Make one of the children emotionally unstable, another of the children extremely naughty…. make one wicked stubborn and then go ahead and make the last one a month old.
Add to this an hour and a half of sleep a night and no husband to help out. For fun, make sure that one of the kids has just fallen down and broken five of his teeth and is in excruciating pain.
Take away the person’s car and make sure it is raining.
This potentially lethal combination of scenarios will royally fuck you up. And I am being royally fucked up the butt at the moment. The days are looong and the nights are very, very short. My eyes are burning and I keep nodding off while in the middle of tasks.
Somehow and some way the show must go on and so kid-with-busted-mouth was rushed to the dentist this morning and given some codeine. In the next week or so, he will have to have alll those teeth pulled out and big, ugly steel spacers put in. Part of me says, “Fuck it… they were fugly anyway” but the other part of me is stressing out because the kid is going to have a straight up grill on him.
Owen will be ridin’ dirty for a while. Sigh.
At the time of the great tooth shattering, the small blond one was having her head bashed in to the wall which resulted in a split skull, lots of blood and the need for some stitches. She didn’t get stitches because I couldn’t get hold of Dean and so it was dealt with the old fashioned way.
Somehow in all of this, I have been keeping up on housework, which is fucking incredible as I am a walking zombie. I have even done all the laundry although there has been no time to fold it and put it all away:
Fuck, y’all. That’s some serious laundry to sort and fold and hang up and haul away to closets and dressers. You know how people will bitch and say, “Oh my GAWD… I have a MOUNTAIN of laundry to fold.” ?
Well…. the mountain is here. In my living room. And to be perfectly honest, I fear an avalanche resulting in the complete burial of one of my children. Yes. The children who have strapped on harnesses and huge back packs and are trying to scale this giant fucker.
Hopefully, one has enough sense to bring along a sherpa to aid in navigation of the harsh (but sunshine-y fresh scented) terrain.
It’s gonna take me forever to get this shit done. In fact, I’d wager to say it might take until Christmas. In the event that that is actually the case I’m just going to say fuck it and it’ll look like this:
I goddamned hate laundry. And the sad thing is that what you can’t see from these photos is that the clothing has also been shoved right up in the ass of that chimney, too. By the time Santa manages to squeeze his fat fucking ass down that thing he’s gonna be shit out the bottom wearing my Spongebob panties and a funny expression on his merry, little face.
Someone come fold this shit for me.