There really isn't anything to say, except I wish this was a scratch and sniff screen. By the end I was almost throwing up from the smell.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Warden Wanted
I am just not sure sure if I am going to make it.
Yesterday, Brock filled up the four-wheeler with water, again. The week before, he and Blake filled up the four-wheeler AND the lawnmower with the hose.
Today, we took the kids to Chili's. They were blowing straw wrappers at each other. Brock, who was standing next to me, picked an empty wrapper off the table, put it in his mouth, turned around, and spit in into the long curly dark hair of the young lady sitting in the booth behind me. In shame, I gasped, jumped around to wipe up the slobbery straw wrapper as it sludged down the back of her seat and her hair.
Earlier this month, I got to clean 36 eggs off the kitchen floor one day, then 7 more three days later.
The older kids are fighting. The little kids are crying. The house is a mess. It's 109 degrees outside, and some of the kids are running fevers.
This week, Whitley gave Blake a giant cup of grape juice, which he spilled all over the carpet when he tripped.
He also wiped an entire cube of butter on three of the chairs, the table and the floor.
Brock squeezed out the glitter glue on the den carpet, not in the form of a picture.
Blake was under water for a brief amount of time, under suspicious circumstances.
The top of Blake's pinky toe and entire toenail got scraped off outside. We don't know how, he didn't cry.
I hesitate to tell any more stories, lest anyone think I am raising a herd of feral children, and call the authorities.
I still have 6 weeks of summer, which is great, except...........
I just don't know if I am going to make it.
Yesterday, Brock filled up the four-wheeler with water, again. The week before, he and Blake filled up the four-wheeler AND the lawnmower with the hose.
Today, we took the kids to Chili's. They were blowing straw wrappers at each other. Brock, who was standing next to me, picked an empty wrapper off the table, put it in his mouth, turned around, and spit in into the long curly dark hair of the young lady sitting in the booth behind me. In shame, I gasped, jumped around to wipe up the slobbery straw wrapper as it sludged down the back of her seat and her hair.
Earlier this month, I got to clean 36 eggs off the kitchen floor one day, then 7 more three days later.
The older kids are fighting. The little kids are crying. The house is a mess. It's 109 degrees outside, and some of the kids are running fevers.
This week, Whitley gave Blake a giant cup of grape juice, which he spilled all over the carpet when he tripped.
He also wiped an entire cube of butter on three of the chairs, the table and the floor.
Brock squeezed out the glitter glue on the den carpet, not in the form of a picture.
Blake was under water for a brief amount of time, under suspicious circumstances.
The top of Blake's pinky toe and entire toenail got scraped off outside. We don't know how, he didn't cry.
I hesitate to tell any more stories, lest anyone think I am raising a herd of feral children, and call the authorities.
I still have 6 weeks of summer, which is great, except...........
I just don't know if I am going to make it.
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