I've got my work cut out for me ...

I doubt myself constantly, and I don't think I hide that. Or maybe I do. I give the appearance of someone very together, but it's in the quiet moments that, as long as I know my loved ones are ok, it's safe for me to step away and quietly fall to pieces.

Tonight was one of those night where I was just annoyed. The middle child was mad I suggested he brush his teeth (gasp! No!)  after shoving 10 Mike-n-Ike's into his mouth at once. As he squished the sugary matter up through the front of his teeth, all I could see was tiny, tasty little pieces wedging their way into the crevices of his teeth.

He stomps to the bathroom.

Moments later he returns. Jaw clenched, he says, "Go in the bathroom, I have a present for you."

I look at Dustin. I look at Olive. I'm hoping there's not a pile of poop on the floor.

I start to follow him and Olive joins me.

"Um Olive? Let me go first," I say, on the off chance that, yes, it is poop.

Mr. Middle Child had squeezed the better part of his toothpaste into the sink. A pile of shiny, thick, sticky, blue TMNT substance.

I look at him, and I can't tell if he's trying to make me laugh or make me pissed off. I'm pretty sure it was the latter, and I responded accordingly.

I'm not even sure why it made me so sad. Probably just bc I thought the age that someone can deliberately plan a "gift" with the intention of being an ass isn't until at least 9. 

I make no promises ...

... that I will make daily posts. Especially when it's late at night and my posts are being made by typing on my phone with my thumb.

But I'm stepping back into the blogging room. How very 2006 of me!

A quick synopsis of where I am in life:

My oldest child is less than one month from high school graduation. My middle child just turned 6, and my youngest is 3-1/2. I'm home during the days and work 4-5 nights a week at a fantastic kid-gear resale shop. I turn 39 in about an hour. 

And my youngest is STILL AWAKE. Right now. 10:50pm. I suspect she is wearing me down to complete weakness so I don't argue when she asks for a Monster High doll tomorrow. I will simply nod my head and hope to god the doll will distract her enough to allow me a nap.

I started an additional blog a whole ago, I need my daughter's permission to divulge the address, bc it's dealing with an issue that is hers. I think it's worth sharing.

Can anyone bring me a Dr. Pepper? I'm parched. And lazy.

So my blog is back. Again. Maybe.