I get that my life is not ordinary. I understand that it has more chaos than the normal person. I’m nearly certain a good amount of it is due solely because of who I am hard-wired to be.
That being said…
A few different people have told me that I need to take my stories to the stage. They claim I have enough material to keep a crowd laughing for quite a while. I choose this blog as my stage. It is here that I vent and tell stories I hope you find entertaining. I use it as a sort of therapy, but if it brings you some sort of comic relief, then it’s a win-win.
A good number of people have have also told me that we need to have cameras installed in my house. I’m not so sure that this is the best idea I’ve heard. I know that what goes on within the walls of my home can be translated into humorous stories and anecdotes, but I’m also pretty sure that a good majority of what goes on in my house would be frowned upon by the Iowa Department of Family Services. The last thing I need is for them to parade into my house with video evidence that I’m a bad parent.
Today I tried to convince #1 that she was shorter than a midget. I think I would have had her too, if her father hadn’t come forward with the truth.
Today I told #2 that her new bedroom in the basement was going to be given to #3. For, you see, this is the year that #2 turns 12. Twelve is an even number. Number 2 has been breaking her arms every-other year since she was 2. That’s right 2, 4, 6, 8, and 10. This year it is her destiny to break an arm and I am not looking forward to the ER trip. I hate trying to convince the medical staff that I know nearly as much about green-stick fractures as they do. I hate having to relive all the accidents #2 has encountered. I hate the inquisitive looks I get from the x-ray technicians as they decide whether or not I’m abusing my child. I especially hate wondering whether this is the accident that wins me a visit from a social worker. Any who… today I informed #2 that the hamster ball she will be receiving for her 12th birthday will not fit down the basement stairs.
Today I “suggested” to #3 that her sister “could straighten her hair before church.” as I was heading out the door for choir. When she replied that she was good as she attempted to smooth down her locks that were wildly out of control, my only reply was “I SAID, I’m sure your sister would be happy to straighten your hair for you before you leave for church.” I gave Jackson “the look”, closed the door, and left.
Today I attempted to lay a guilt trip on Jackson for not getting me anything for V-day. He attempted a rebuttal, but I shot all his “excuses” down. At the end of the day, I didn’t get him anything either!
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