This is it. The wall. I’m already counting down ’til week long YMCA camp for my big kid. It’s not that he’s terrible. He’s a doll.
*Snort*
But it’s the constant influence he’s got on the little one. The brain washing. The potty mouth. The genitalia jokes. And worst of all, the ignoring. I may have inadvertently taught him all these things, but now he’s teaching my three year old and that is the final glove slap across my face.
I have a Vegas trip right over the horizon, and i’m ready for it. Sooooo very ready for it. The desperation. The blood shot eyes. The cramping index slot button finger. The ever-perfume of stale cigarettes. The bad perms and tacky manicures. The sleazy stilettos and wall-eyed paranoia.
Bring it on.
At this point, i’m just hoping I can stay awake and out of the room until at least 10. If I wake up before 7am any of those days, I will be pissed. I will make it my mission to wake up slow and languid and lazy .. and slow. I will NOT be hopping out of bed for bathroom runs or bad dreams or shadows or puking.
My husband is on his own if any of this happens. Momma is off the clock!! wait a minute… is my husband going too?
Sarcasmica 