moneymoneymoneymoney - MON-EY!
My security blanket has finally arrived - in check form. The dipshits at the insurance company finally coughed up the cash to pay for their client's gross negligence, and we're rolling in dough. Ok, so maybe not rolling in it - but I seriously need to reconsider this rolling around business, because I think I just got a lego stuck in my butt.
Anyhoo, look at me! Alive, awake, and now relatively alert after two cups of coffee - AND it's not even 10 am. I've already made coffee (quite important), fed and dressed the NephewThingies, turned OFF the tv, and am encouraging some play time. Their Mom would like for them to spend less time with the mental vampire electric thingy and more time doing what boys do best which of course is making enormous messes and having a grand time doing just that. Personally, I can't help but agree. I grew up with the flashy shiny mom-substitute and now feel compelled to be linked to some form of electronics at all times. Yes, I think play time will make for happier tiny bubbaheads.
Hell, speaking of the new and improved Auntiebot (now with scrubbing action), laundry load number 3 is now in the washer while its counterpart, laundry load number 2 fluffs in the dryer. It's sleeting outside, so I can't take the boys out to play like I had initially planned to do before the day's forcasted rain started. The girls are, of course, at school.
I can understand how Tom and Mon get so overwhelmed each day. Two and four year olds are like God's little natural disasters. Each morning I wake to a new and exciting adventure, usually entitled "Guess what food you just stepped in?". I don't know how they keep crackers in this house, as it's the preferred food to crush and place in strategic piles throughout the house. By the end of the night, we're ankle deep in cars and crayons, clothes and crackers, train tracks and the need for tranquilzer guns. And yet, I wouldn't trade this experience for the world. Rather than scaring me away from procreation, it's enhancing that need in my soul. It's a shame isn't it? My college friends always said that I'd be their breeder for them. It looks like they'll get their wish, someday.
Watching them wreak havoc on this poor little brick home can be an exercise in madness, but when J holds his arms up into the air to be picked up, gives me a little devil-angel grin and says "Aunt Shewwie", or when little T wakes me up in the morning by poking me then says, "I love you, Aunt Sherrie" and then lets me fall back asleep, I can't help but melt.
Little brats. They're ruining all my evil plans.
Step 1 - Underpants
Step 2 - ???
Step 3 - PROFIT!
Meh. Oh well. I'll just encorporate them into the plans somehow.
Anyhoo, look at me! Alive, awake, and now relatively alert after two cups of coffee - AND it's not even 10 am. I've already made coffee (quite important), fed and dressed the NephewThingies, turned OFF the tv, and am encouraging some play time. Their Mom would like for them to spend less time with the mental vampire electric thingy and more time doing what boys do best which of course is making enormous messes and having a grand time doing just that. Personally, I can't help but agree. I grew up with the flashy shiny mom-substitute and now feel compelled to be linked to some form of electronics at all times. Yes, I think play time will make for happier tiny bubbaheads.
Hell, speaking of the new and improved Auntiebot (now with scrubbing action), laundry load number 3 is now in the washer while its counterpart, laundry load number 2 fluffs in the dryer. It's sleeting outside, so I can't take the boys out to play like I had initially planned to do before the day's forcasted rain started. The girls are, of course, at school.
I can understand how Tom and Mon get so overwhelmed each day. Two and four year olds are like God's little natural disasters. Each morning I wake to a new and exciting adventure, usually entitled "Guess what food you just stepped in?". I don't know how they keep crackers in this house, as it's the preferred food to crush and place in strategic piles throughout the house. By the end of the night, we're ankle deep in cars and crayons, clothes and crackers, train tracks and the need for tranquilzer guns. And yet, I wouldn't trade this experience for the world. Rather than scaring me away from procreation, it's enhancing that need in my soul. It's a shame isn't it? My college friends always said that I'd be their breeder for them. It looks like they'll get their wish, someday.
Watching them wreak havoc on this poor little brick home can be an exercise in madness, but when J holds his arms up into the air to be picked up, gives me a little devil-angel grin and says "Aunt Shewwie", or when little T wakes me up in the morning by poking me then says, "I love you, Aunt Sherrie" and then lets me fall back asleep, I can't help but melt.
Little brats. They're ruining all my evil plans.
Step 1 - Underpants
Step 2 - ???
Step 3 - PROFIT!
Meh. Oh well. I'll just encorporate them into the plans somehow.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home