The other day the two older girls had a meltdown that I’m sure you all heard. I don’t care what country you’re in, you HAD to hear it. It was the sound of Kara and Marina at each other’s throats.
Who would have guessed that telling them to ‘clean their room’ was going to be an all out war that would end up with hysterical crying and me screaming at the top of my lungs, “IF YOU SAY, “FRIGGIN” one more time I am going to backhand you RIGHT in the mouth! WE CLEAR? WE CLEAR?”
I swear our house is an estrogen warehouse. We have enough estrogen for a small country that is running low. I don’t know how much more I can take of it. The need to shake them until they start their periods is just overwhelming.
After the meltdown I dropped Kara off with her dad, who she insisted that she might move with. When she said those words I contorted my face in such a way that I looked like one of those freaky Bratz dolls. “Oh hell no, you can just keep THINKIN’ that, it’s not going to happen! You’re father will move in with US before that happens.”
I really should be careful throwing around threats like that though, because you know me…I would take him in too.
Marina and I needed to find a way to bring ourselves back to normal levels. Milkshakes and new shoes seemed to do the trick.
I had been eyeballing those horrible clog looking shoes for awhile and I finally tried them on. HOLY HELL they were comfortable! I bought the black ones. Estrogen levels back to normal. Amen.
Today as I was getting ready to leave Shaun asked if I was going to wear my strainer shoes. I knew what he was talking about, but wasn’t going to give him the glory of making fun of my clogs. I was going to wear them with pride.
As I was walking down the hallway, Shaun yelled from the kitchen, “Look honey, I bought you an extra pair.”
He stood there holding two black strainer spoons.
“Shut up, Shaun.”
He then stated “How could I not like shoes that you can wear and strain spaghetti with at the same time?”