"Seriously? This is really my life?"

Some days I take a step back and say, "Seriously? This is really my life?" If I could could say it out loud without being committed, I'd say there's a good chance the kids and pets are out to get me, or in the very least drive me to the brink just to make me look bad. And I know they laugh at me (a lot) :)

Honestly, my dog has a better social life than me. In the 2 years since I've had him, he's gone out on the town 90% more than I have. He goes out to do his potty business, and *poof* he's gone. Off to meet new friends and explore new places, while I sit home and worry about him. He's worse than my first husband,who when he wandered off could find his way back eventually, Samson I have to go pick up, and I swear that every time I go to retrieve him when the nice person that finds him calls me, he's laughing at me while I apologize. And I know while I'm giving him dirty looks in the car he's muttering under his muzzle "I have more friends than you." I think he's still a bit snippy about the vasectomy.

The cats keep bringing friends for dinner ~ are you kidding me? Like I don't have enough mouths to feed. 9 lives? I think cat's have 9 stomachs, you should see them eat! I go out on the porch in the morning to let the dogs out and they swarm me like I've just showered in the juice from a tuna fish can! And while I'm trying not to trip over the heard of cats at my feet I also have to engage in a game of "dodge a mole" with my friend Gilbert. Yes, I appreciate him eradicating the vermin, but why must he leave his trophys strategically placed where I have to step. Ever step on a dead mole in flip flops? I have and I can assure you, it's not pretty my friends. And if all that weren't enough I have to deal with my sweet little Puffaluffagus being promiscuous. I tried to warn her, told her their love wasn't sincere and that they'd be gone long before the babies ever arrived, but I guess she'll have to learn that life lesson all on her own, and I'll be left in the WalMart parking lot with the tailgate of my van open with a laundry basket full of fatherless puffballs and a giant sign that says "FREE KITTENS"

My 3 girls are a lesson in patience at Hormone University. I have one in full blown teenager hood, one on the very brink of puberty and one that is trying to decide if she wants to be a big girl or a baby. On any given day this house is a tornado of mood swings, a hurricane of tears, and a landslide of clothes, tiny dolls and plastic animals ~ which makes one wonder if my husband's work schedule of being home only one weekend a month wasn't more carefully thought out than I first expected. (* note to self* chat with Dave about the eery coincidence of his schedule missing the "ugly" weeks on the calendar)

My boys ~ while much less hormonally imbalanced than my female crew, are daunting in their own way. STUBBORNNESS! My little one will only use his potty for a crying stool. Can't seem to grasp that paper is not for shredding and Fridges are not for writing on. He still believes that the dogs need their food pre-softened and continues to put it in the water dish. My oldest taunts me with spurts of achievement, followed by crashes of laziness. One day he can knock out an ENTIRE pace of school work, and get a 98 on the test and then for the next two days I can hardly get him to hold a pencil. He will get his baby brother dressed in monster slippers and a fuzzy tail to clean their bedroom and when he can't sleep he'll clean the kitchen and living room, but two days later he'll swear I treat him like a pack mule if I ask him to take the garbage to the dumpster.

... wonder no more why I'm nuttier than rat crap in a pistachio factory! And yet ~ I ADORE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM!