Apparently I'm feeling rather chatty today. So now, you must be subjected to yet another post.
I realize I alluded to a lot in the last posts and said exactly... nothing. Sorry about that. Nothing annoys me more than reading someone's blog and not have an f'in clue as to what they are talking about.
So in the interest of full disclosure...
My horrible husband brought me home a cake last night. A CAKE. For my birthday. How dare he.
The children? They were being loud. LOUD. And not staying in their seats during dinner.
*much more coughing*
The cardboard boxes in the laundry room waiting for the recycling truck? Fell over. All over the floor.
*sound of crickets chirping*
What? This doesn't send you into fits of rage?
I must say, at least I saved my physical abuse for the boxes. The children and the husband were yelled at and berated.
Push the stockings aside. We need more room on the mantle. We have the latest Bad Mommy Award to find a spot for. Oh, and let's not forget the Bad Wife Award.
But the suggestion I mention?
A good friend suggested I decorate the cake for my oldest's real birthday on Thursday. So now? I'm happy.
Oh hormones, you are not my friend. (Except for the fact that you keep the facial hair to a minimum.) So this is what the beginning of menopause is like? And you say it lasts about 10 years? (At least with pregnancy we knew it was only 10 months of psychosis.) Is it possible to order our very own padded room? A substitute mommy? All suggestions welcomed.