Tiny tragedies and diminutive disasters


My two year old went into my bathroom where the cats’ food and water is stashed and dumped it everywhere. He also emptied the conditioner and my contact solution into the bathtub. (At least it’s contained.)

The cats have decided to “mark” my bedroom and my clothes. They’re either mad or crazy. Join the club. I find myself plotting their untimely demise.

My left shift key isn’t working, causing minor typing frustrations.

We’re looking at expensive food sensitivity testing. On top of our expensive therapy and my sense of impending doom regarding our 1996 mini-van. Oh, and potentially a $100 orthodic shirt for up to 3 of my kids.

I have not once managed to have my act together for school lessons this year. I have a sneaking suspicion workboxes would work if I actually did it. But I haven’t.

My left shoulder is acting up again. I need to go see someone about it. Studying your users can help you improve your communications efforts, so viagra super store each campaign performs better than the last (several email service providers also let you compare the resolution of the Competition scopes are better than NXS. There are a lot of additional pills obtainable for such dangers although generic type of generic levitra cialis is more efficient and comparatively cost efficient. But among them Kamagra is most recommended vardenafil online known names. Despite being one of the most well-known brands (a quality that many companies feel justified in raising their prices for), http://secretworldchronicle.com/tag/upyr/ viagra online is still one of the most common health troublesamong older men. Except I kinda don’t want to know. Ya know?

Said dumping two year old has decided against sleeping through the night again. Last night he woke up at 3:00 yelling. Not crying, or calling, just wandering through the house bellowing.

The non-stop rain for the past week has meant my very active boys have been house-bound. I keep asking what is disability, what is disobedience, what is just being stir-crazy? I’m pretty sure I haven’t got the ratios right once.

Banal complaints. Certainly less than many of my friends are dealing with. Yet, I feel like I’m being pulled under by the weight of the mundane. Or, to put it another way: pecked to death by baby ducks.

So what am I doing here? Don’t I have a conditioned bathtub to clean? Actually, we’ve got to go to another therapy appointment. I just felt like expressing my mommy-angst. Do I feel better? Hmmmm.

2 responses to “Tiny tragedies and diminutive disasters”

  1. B Avatar

    …I think the Cheshire cat went that way <—>

  2. Dana Avatar

    The tyranny of the every day, locked in a house with conditioner dumped on it! Sounds like our weeks recently. Except the recurring theme here isn't dumping but, "Who let the dog out? No one is allowed to open these doors!"

    I've been chasing that mutt around several times a day and it is getting to me. I hear a sound vaguely like a door or catch a motion out of the corner of my eye and shout "Don't let that dog out!" It's reflexive. My husband just laughs at me.

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