Listen, Monday, I'm sick of just a few things this week.
Last night, the baby granted me about three hours of sleep. Do you have any idea how mean I get on that little sleep? I think my entire family caught my wrath way too early this morning, and I walked around using all my apologies for the day by about 8:30.
Then I caught the baby dipping a cup in the toilet. I'm pretty sure he took a drink before I found him.
There's also my older son, who seems to think it's hilarious to fall on the floor any time the house needs a comedic moment.
Right now, I'm watching the baby beat his corn dog on his high chair tray like a drumstick.
I've managed to keep the house pretty clean, though, which I think will keep me off the ceiling. We'll see how I'm doing by Tuesday.
Then again, I still have this huge writing project I'm trying to wrap up, so I may need Dairy Queen therapy after all. How in the world am I going to get that done in time to watch the Dancing with the Stars finals?
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