Okay, so I know that the title isn’t a word; it’s just a general exclamation of disgust over how much the past few days have sucked, because I noticed that the other titles this week start with F and I wanted to be consistent.
So yeah, did I mention that I’m ready for spring? It was -38586 degrees this week, therefore I stayed put with Henry and Eleanor at home. Note to self: do not ever stay trapped in the house with toddlers without leaving for three days EVER AGAIN. Especially if said toddlers have colds. And are dripping snot. And refuse to take naps. And want to watch their Signing Time DVDs over and over and over and over AND OVER AND OVER again.
Seriously, I was thisclose to becoming feral. I wore the same outfit Thursday as I did Wednesday, then slept in it, then wore it again on Friday. Plus the babies stayed in their fleecy jammies all day on Thursday and Friday, since thanks to our “oh, we aren’t supposed to let cold air in? just light?” drafty windows, it was a balmy 65 degrees in our house.
Because I wasn’t having enough fun, I took our very antsy dog outside on Thursday, where he proceeded to have diarrhea, and got it all over his butt hair, so then I got to stand in my garage and cut smelly ass hair off of my dog.
And to top it off, now I’m sick because heaven forbid Henry and Eleanor become ill without passing it over to me. I’ve spent most of the day in bed, venturing out to the grocery store, coming home feeling like I ran a marathon, and then laying around and whining some more.
However, it hasn’t been all doom and gloom. My generous sister, who noticed the wild look in my eyes and the pants I had worn for three days, sent Andy and I out to eat last night, complete with a gift certificate for dinner, while she babysat the kiddos.
And only 62 days until spring!