Facebook recently reminded me that Lorelei did not sleep completely through the night until she was almost two years old. How depressing. Rowan slept for five hours once, but it wasn’t the most useful time slot, since it started at 7:30pm. I seem to have forgotten how to sleep, anyway.
Dear mom who is totally screwing up,
Today my five year old daughter screamed the whole way home because I would not buy her a pottery wheel.
Do you use a Petri dish with viruses? I don’t know how to science.
Everyone is sort of sneezy and snotty, and Rowan started coughing and wheezing. I stayed home with him yesterday, glad that this seemed to be a regular cold, and not another Bronchiolitis-level illness.
“They’re only young once.”
The words are superimposed on an idyllic picture of a child in nature or a beach with footprints leading to the horizon. There’s always a hazy filter. The bottom caption implores you to leave a counter full of dirty dishes, to eschew housework, to be present for your children for they will grow up before your very eyes. We are reminded that no one has ever said they wish they had spent more time doing housework, and less time with the kids.
The place was packed. At least two people took their beers onto the floor itself, where they promptly fell, splashing beer all over the place.
Today may have broken me. I was about ten seconds from huddling in a closet and refusing to come out until other people did all of the adulting for me, leaving me with nothing to do but watch Jane the Virgin and drown my frustrations in a half-gallon of double fudge ripple.
So what would you put on a bingo card?