Sweet son of a....

It's kind of been a long week. Right now, I am sitting next to a child who is taking an incredibly long time to eat his supper. His older brother finished 30 minutes ago.

A few days ago Jake decided one of the towel racks in the master bath was for hanging from. The drywall didn't agree. Add that to the list of holes I get to patch.

While I was mowing the grass, Brady got a hold of his inhaler and pretty much emptied it into the atmosphere. Grrreat.

I finally got the nerve to do a room inspection. Their rooms were surprisingly clean. The toy room looked like the Schlitz Bull had paid them a visit.

Pretty much any time I've had to get on the phone, they lose the power to shut their mouths. Which has lead to a lot of bad words silently mouthed in their general direction.

At some point yesterday they took turns adjusting the thermostat, finally settling on a brisk 62 degrees. That's gonna hurt.

Brady decided that drawing at his fancy drawing table wasn't good enough so he drew on the lid to his blocks. Nice.

So in summation...I have learned that the idea of being a single Father makes me want to; A) cry, B) maybe poop my pants a little. Sure, we've had some good times this past week, but not being able to call for backup is neither the bee's knees nor the cat's pajamas. It is pure nonsense.

Cindy, I swear to everything that is Holy and delicious, that you can do whatever you want, just don't ever leave me. Yes, you can even do that. I don't care. Sounds great. Yep. Whatever you want.

Phew...one. more. day.