Psyche Ward, here I come...

Longest week EVER. I am thisclose to voluntarilly admitting myself into the nearest mental health facility. Hell, I can't even remember the last time I peed by myself. Taking a shower this week has been a joke, because somebody got hurt or broke something by the time I got out, and I don't even take long showers. Getting dressed this week? FORGET IT unless I had every child and animal in the room with me, one of them going "OH, no were DAT, Mama. NONONO I WANT THAT MAMA!" and then when I finally get dressed and feel good about myself the 40 year old kid comes home and goes "Huh, I don't like those shorts."

Or cleaning the livingroom, going in to clean the kids room and when I come back out 95 (I counted them) books are pulled off the library and sprawled across the floor. I just finished ordering a 20 dollar book for my sister since the dog ate the one she lent me with my 23 dollar Avon profit.

The dog also ate another official looking piece of paper and by the time I recovered three small pieces I realized it was my birth cirtificate. I don't even know how that happened.

Moo is on another growth spurt, is eating a bottle an hour and won't let me put him down. The kid's twenty pounds so that ain't easy, but at least I'll have some muscle soon enough. The dog learned to climb onto the counter and got a hold of and poked holes in the nipples of both his bottle and sippy cup, so feeding is now rather messy, if not completely impossible.

I sweep, and ten minutes later someone stops by and tracks mud all over because it has been raining every other day the past three weeks, so I sweep again and someone else comes over, heading into the kitchen before I have the time to say "GOD DAMNIT STOP YOUR BOOTS ARE MUDDY!".


Finally, 15 minutes ago I say THAT'S IT! and go to my bar. The only thing left is enough Baileys ("Mommys Chocolate Milk") for one drink, so I pour it over some ice, grab my aviators, a cigarette, and take Ma and the dog out on the deck.

I bring the glass to my lips and Ma screams because the dog took her blanket. I robotically retrieve it, sit down, bring the glass to my lips again and more screaming. The dog squeezed through a hole in the gate. I immiediately jump up and get her from the backyard before she scales our fence and heads to the neighbors for some action like the ho bag she is, and come up the steps just in time to see Ma walking into the rail because she was busy looking through her brand new binoculars.

My glass is on the rail.

Now, picture this in slow motion. Glass teeters, Me, with dog in my arms dives forward with a NOOOOO!....

And it falls, contents immediately seeping out into the woodchips below.

I didn't even get to taste it.

Generous Ma says "Oops, sowwy, I make you a new mommy chocolate milk."

I cry.

TGIHOLYF people.