Today I have been in the worst possible mood. Delilah refuses to stop licking my every limb and there has been nothing great on TV, other than the debates, but I wouldn't want to ruffle any feathers by sharing my views on the possibility of an older gentlemen pres. I went to a MOMS Club event today. It was the annual Halloween Spooktacular, where all the little boogers get dressed up for silly candid pictures. My child had no costume, because her mother was to lazy to get up this morning and haul herself to Party City that has the Abby Cadabby costume that the little booger was recently admiring. Instead, Olivia attended the party in a pink tutu like getup that was handed down by God knows who, God knows when. Poor little dear. It must have been mortifying. I noticed the stains on the back of it, as we headed out the door. Because the getup said princess on the front, I told everyone she was a princess. I attended with my usual unsocial approach and just hoped that none of my clients would show-up and surprise me.
After swinging on the swings and sliding down the slides, Olivia planted her little pink tutu butt on a small plastic bench. Olivia proclaimed that it was "me bench," just as a little Nemo clown fish headed over and planted her little orange self right next to my hand-me-down princess. Maybe it was the stains that she later noticed on her butt or that she had finally found a place to sit away from the ruckus that is the MOMS club, but she wasn't in the mood to share. Olivia hauled off and slugged that fish right in the dorsal fin. The princess served her time-out but later refused to apologize.
We left after several yogurt dipped pretzels and pink berry punch lemonade. Home at last we were, where the battle ensued over the nap. That story deserves a whole other entry. I also called my husband today to "discuss" our current financial situation and more specifically, the property tax. Why is it that ones property tax continues to rise, despite the enormous decline in property values? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Please forgive the reference, but this is what I am obligated to endure--it was in my vows. Now back to the phone call. I was discussing the bills in a loud and irritating voice, hoping and pleading with my husband to provide me with a solution or at least a supportive ear, and after I paused for some needed feedback, my husband asks, "Did you hear that Guy Richie and Madonna are getting a divorce?" Needless to say the phone call ended abruptly.
I know some of you are thinking that I should stop the loud and irritating writing and be thankful for all of the things that I have. You are correct, but this is my blog and I can be as loud and irritating as I would like to be. Cheers.
