I’m Not Dead Yet!

I’m Not Dead Yet! March 13, 2014

Just in case you were worried:

I’m not quite fine, but I have been busy

Chopping my hair off
Streaking it with red
Hanging out at the beach
Celebrating the Ogre’s 36th birthday

and hanging out with my mother-in-law, my mom, and my sister, who have taken turns visiting us the past few weeks. (Somehow I didn’t manage to get pictures of that.)

That’s the Hallmark version. The not-so-made-for-TV version can be summed up pretty well in this one email, straight from my typing fingers to the Ogre’s inbox.

Subject: Sorry to say

that under no circumstances will I be joining you for a movie. I will be locking myself in our room with a frivolous Kindle book, at least a bottle of wine, all the chocolate in the house, and probably the rest of the chocolate donuts too. My evening has included a dog eating a baby’s poop, a baby eating his own poop, a dog licking a baby’s poopy bottom and then licking my mouth, a dog jumping on my head, a dog jumping over a baby but not quite clearing the toddler on the other side, a dog running psychotic circles around the house before attacking the broom, children crying, children being metaphorical turds, children being actual turds, children sneaking off to drink ketchup, children screaming about losing dessert, children screaming about losing their ketchup, children losing their toys, children screaming at each other that they’re driving each other insane, me screaming at them that I’m the one who’s really being driven insane, children responding with “but but but HE’s LOOKING AT MY FACE!” and me finally locking them all in one room and sending you this email. So. I’ll quit drinking tomorrow and all, but for tonight, bottom’s up.

PS: I’ll totally write your dissertation for you if you’ll raise these kids for me.

 

*NB: Just in case CPS is reading, the poop thing is a TOTAL anomaly that directly resulted from the baby learning to remove his own clothes and diaper with no warning. It has not happened since and will not happen again, since I now duct tape his diaper closed. Wait. I’m making this worse, aren’t I?

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