girlfiend

Two margaritas no longer improve my mood. Instead they give me a headache. I learned this the hard way last night.

B has been covered in poison ivy for more than a week and he’s completely miserable. I’m glad it’s not me, but I feel terrible for him.

The unrelenting rain is driving F up the wall. He is like a bull in a china shop. He doesn’t rest, he just runs back and forth bashing and crashing into things like me and the baby.

I will blame the rain for my short temper. It’s very difficult not to scream at the kid after he headbutts the baby. Poor baby.

I need an initial for the baby. How about T, for “the” since Boyfiend is already B.

T busted out another molar. I guess some babies really do get fevers and diarrhea when they’re teething. F never did. He just stopped sleeping for six months at a time.

T’s birthday party is this weekend. I am heartbroken that my baby is going to be one.

The house is a disaster and the backyard is a disaster and with this endless rain I don’t know how I’ll get it together. It’s impossible to clean inside with two children destroying every area I so painstakingly unclutter and clean.

My laundry room is currently housing four loads of clean laundry. There is one clean load in this room. I have no interest in folding it and putting it away.

T has cheerios stuck to his butt right now.

This week I’ve made two batches of chocolate chip cookie dough, two loaves of whole wheat sandwich bread, four sourdough baguettes, and pizza dough. It’s only Wednesday morning.  I would like the rain to stop so I can stop baking. Why am I baking so much? Because F likes to help. And by help I mean drive his trains through the flour and eat chocolate chips.

Driving his trains through the flour requires less clean up than allowing him to drive his trains through playdough. It doesn’t get stuck in the wheels, harden, and fall out all over the goddamn house, leaving tasty little pink and blue bits for the baby to eat.

I would very much like this week to be over.