Eater of Pre-licked Corn

Our three day weekend of family time and laziness is at an end. I knew going into it that we wouldn't be going out and about doing much, so spending time doing stuff with the kids was going to be the main menu, which is as it should be.

My son decided that it was a GODZILLA weekend. The proof of how much I love him is in that I sat through 3 90's era GODZILLA movies, and have one more on tap yet. I was experienced with the older movies, the ones from I don't know what era, that they used to show for free at the Artcraft theater in the summers. The versions from the 90s spent too much time developing plots, seriously just bring out the monsters. I feel like there could be a whole franchise of these movies just made in professional wrestling style. Two monsters enter, one monster leaves...you know, like Auntie Infinity likes.

We also played with the hose and got unbelievably wet and gross. This seemed to be a big hit among the tiny humans at my house. Charlie believes the hose is best served by directly putting it to your chest.

Julia and her friend Temper played hopscotch and ran around the yard like nuts. Playing outside was probably my kids favorite part of the weekend, apart the wry repartee in the Godzilla movies.

My favorite part was watching Jim Nabors sing at the Indy 500. I cried my EYES out and when he got to chime in with GENTLEMEN START YOUR ENGINES I cried again. All my memories of rushing to the track "before Gomer sings" came flooding back and the younger version of me sat screaming at the TV for three hours. I even had a beer. Well it was one beer. It took me three hours to drink it.

My Hoosier "just make do" self made a bad decision at dinner time though. I decided that surely half a chimney of charcoal was enough. Yeah I'd make do, it would be ok, no problem. Grilling corn and steaks, it was not ok. I couldn't get enough heat going to make it do much more than slightly brown the meat, and warm the corn. The husks got a bit crispy on some but not like awesome grilled corn should be. Eventually it was late, and we had to finish them both in the kitchen and surrender to reality.

Even partially grilled corn is far superior to just plain old boiled corn. That smokey flavor and deliciousness was still there. We topped it off with parmesan and butter, and Louis and I were as happy as being at the fair. I was thinking about over our weekend, of playing outside, and Godzilla, and just spending time together and it was about then as my mind wandered during conversation that my husband asked if I wanted Miles ear of corn. He wasn't eating it.

What he had done, after getting it buttered and parm covered, was sit and lick it for about five minutes, possibly longer.His face was covered in butter and little white flecks of cheese on either side of his mouth. Louis said "Eww you're not serious?"

I picked up Miles corn and buttered it up. "Louis, I gave birth to you all,I'm not afraid to eat after you."

He stared at me like I was crazy as I cheesed it and began to eat. He opted for a fresh ear as I dined on the pre-licked version. And that is probably my favorite moment of our holiday weekend.

Having a family to share pre-licked ears of corn with, is the best thing ever.


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Eater of Pre-licked Corn

Our three day weekend of family time and laziness is at an end. I knew going into it that we wouldn't be going out and about doing much, so spending time doing stuff with the kids was going to be the main menu, which is as it should be.

My son decided that it was a GODZILLA weekend. The proof of how much I love him is in that I sat through 3 90's era GODZILLA movies, and have one more on tap yet. I was experienced with the older movies, the ones from I don't know what era, that they used to show for free at the Artcraft theater in the summers. The versions from the 90s spent too much time developing plots, seriously just bring out the monsters. I feel like there could be a whole franchise of these movies just made in professional wrestling style. Two monsters enter, one monster leaves...you know, like Auntie Infinity likes.

We also played with the hose and got unbelievably wet and gross. This seemed to be a big hit among the tiny humans at my house. Charlie believes the hose is best served by directly putting it to your chest.

Julia and her friend Temper played hopscotch and ran around the yard like nuts. Playing outside was probably my kids favorite part of the weekend, apart the wry repartee in the Godzilla movies.

My favorite part was watching Jim Nabors sing at the Indy 500. I cried my EYES out and when he got to chime in with GENTLEMEN START YOUR ENGINES I cried again. All my memories of rushing to the track "before Gomer sings" came flooding back and the younger version of me sat screaming at the TV for three hours. I even had a beer. Well it was one beer. It took me three hours to drink it.

My Hoosier "just make do" self made a bad decision at dinner time though. I decided that surely half a chimney of charcoal was enough. Yeah I'd make do, it would be ok, no problem. Grilling corn and steaks, it was not ok. I couldn't get enough heat going to make it do much more than slightly brown the meat, and warm the corn. The husks got a bit crispy on some but not like awesome grilled corn should be. Eventually it was late, and we had to finish them both in the kitchen and surrender to reality.

Even partially grilled corn is far superior to just plain old boiled corn. That smokey flavor and deliciousness was still there. We topped it off with parmesan and butter, and Louis and I were as happy as being at the fair. I was thinking about over our weekend, of playing outside, and Godzilla, and just spending time together and it was about then as my mind wandered during conversation that my husband asked if I wanted Miles ear of corn. He wasn't eating it.

What he had done, after getting it buttered and parm covered, was sit and lick it for about five minutes, possibly longer.His face was covered in butter and little white flecks of cheese on either side of his mouth. Louis said "Eww you're not serious?"

I picked up Miles corn and buttered it up. "Louis, I gave birth to you all,I'm not afraid to eat after you."

He stared at me like I was crazy as I cheesed it and began to eat. He opted for a fresh ear as I dined on the pre-licked version. And that is probably my favorite moment of our holiday weekend.

Having a family to share pre-licked ears of corn with, is the best thing ever.


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And So It Begins or Continues Or Whatever

Louis is 11. He is still the sweet, gentle loving child he has always been. However, over the past few weeks, something has been creeping around my sweet boy.

I believe it's the onset of the dreaded TEENAGE times.

My husband tells me I have said this 100 times but I AM GOING TO SAY IT ONE MORE. He flat out refused to play checkers with me. Because it was a "DORA" checkers board. I THOUGHT IT WAS A CUTE BOARD OMG WHO CARES WHAT THE CHARACTERS ARE?

HE does.

Nor would he play Old Maid. "I'm not playing with those baby games." He declared. He removed the box of Dora themed games from his closet, where they were stashed, declaring them not fit for his closet because, again, they are baby games.

His school just had a sock hop, and while we would normally have gone, at least one of us, he told us he didn't want us to come.

I AM GOING TO CHAPERONE EVERYTHING FROM NOW ON YOU CAN'T KEEP ME OUT YOUNG MAN.

He refused to wear a tee shirt with TMNT on it. It wasn't like a baby/little kid kind of shirt, it was kind of a cool vintage look - I thought it was ok. He rejected it out of hand.

He rolls his eyes, he sighs in exasperation at us. (ok I sigh, that's probably my fault). WHAT IS GOING ON WITH MY CHILD????

Oh yeah I know, I know exactly what is going on.

It's puberty. It's the beginning of me not understanding him, at least in his mind. It's the end of him always being excited to spend time with us. I am regretting every minute I didn't give him right now at this minute because they're over. I messed up. Why am I sitting here I bet I could get him to do something with me right now if I played it right.

It's not all doom though. Well not yet.

Last night, when he went to bed, he slipped into bed beside me and said he needed Mommy Snuggles. Which he got and then some. There might have also been kisses and squeezes and whispers about how much I love him.

The part I've dreaded is upon me. I guess now we'll see what kind of young man we created. I think he's a good one. Time will tell.

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And So It Begins or Continues Or Whatever

Louis is 11. He is still the sweet, gentle loving child he has always been. However, over the past few weeks, something has been creeping around my sweet boy.

I believe it's the onset of the dreaded TEENAGE times.

My husband tells me I have said this 100 times but I AM GOING TO SAY IT ONE MORE. He flat out refused to play checkers with me. Because it was a "DORA" checkers board. I THOUGHT IT WAS A CUTE BOARD OMG WHO CARES WHAT THE CHARACTERS ARE?

HE does.

Nor would he play Old Maid. "I'm not playing with those baby games." He declared. He removed the box of Dora themed games from his closet, where they were stashed, declaring them not fit for his closet because, again, they are baby games.

His school just had a sock hop, and while we would normally have gone, at least one of us, he told us he didn't want us to come.

I AM GOING TO CHAPERONE EVERYTHING FROM NOW ON YOU CAN'T KEEP ME OUT YOUNG MAN.

He refused to wear a tee shirt with TMNT on it. It wasn't like a baby/little kid kind of shirt, it was kind of a cool vintage look - I thought it was ok. He rejected it out of hand.

He rolls his eyes, he sighs in exasperation at us. (ok I sigh, that's probably my fault). WHAT IS GOING ON WITH MY CHILD????

Oh yeah I know, I know exactly what is going on.

It's puberty. It's the beginning of me not understanding him, at least in his mind. It's the end of him always being excited to spend time with us. I am regretting every minute I didn't give him right now at this minute because they're over. I messed up. Why am I sitting here I bet I could get him to do something with me right now if I played it right.

It's not all doom though. Well not yet.

Last night, when he went to bed, he slipped into bed beside me and said he needed Mommy Snuggles. Which he got and then some. There might have also been kisses and squeezes and whispers about how much I love him.

The part I've dreaded is upon me. I guess now we'll see what kind of young man we created. I think he's a good one. Time will tell.

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Thump Thump Womp Clomp Thump

First it was a helicopter. A strange helicopter. I didn't understand why it kept coming back. My mind wandered over the sound, was someone in the woods? Were they tracking someone? My husband was awake could hear the sounds of him being awake. The sound went away and I went back to sleep.

Then, a back hoe. There was someone doing some sort of construction something or other. It was night still. I could hear it plainly though, this sound, the sound of slamming against metal, something was happening outside. My husband had come to bed by now. I struggled to wake up, to identify it. It was still dark.

I wondered if something was at the water treatment plant, maybe sound was carrying due to the atmosphere being weird.

I fell back asleep.

The helicopter came back. Then it left. It was nearly time to wake up, but I heard it, at a distance, this sound, a whirring and pounding. I could not hear it in the bathroom, but it was so clear in the hallway. Something pounding, thumping, at 6:30 am.

I wandered down to the laundry room to look for shorts - and found my drying whirring and pounding - because my husband's shoes were in it, they got soaked yesterday and he had to wash and dry them.

Not a back hoe, not a helicopter.

Shoes. In a dryer.

Mystery solved.


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Thump Thump Womp Clomp Thump

First it was a helicopter. A strange helicopter. I didn't understand why it kept coming back. My mind wandered over the sound, was someone in the woods? Were they tracking someone? My husband was awake could hear the sounds of him being awake. The sound went away and I went back to sleep.

Then, a back hoe. There was someone doing some sort of construction something or other. It was night still. I could hear it plainly though, this sound, the sound of slamming against metal, something was happening outside. My husband had come to bed by now. I struggled to wake up, to identify it. It was still dark.

I wondered if something was at the water treatment plant, maybe sound was carrying due to the atmosphere being weird.

I fell back asleep.

The helicopter came back. Then it left. It was nearly time to wake up, but I heard it, at a distance, this sound, a whirring and pounding. I could not hear it in the bathroom, but it was so clear in the hallway. Something pounding, thumping, at 6:30 am.

I wandered down to the laundry room to look for shorts - and found my drying whirring and pounding - because my husband's shoes were in it, they got soaked yesterday and he had to wash and dry them.

Not a back hoe, not a helicopter.

Shoes. In a dryer.

Mystery solved.


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Trains, and Flowers, and Bottomless Rootbeer Floats

I have to confess, the day before Mother's Day, I wasn't FEELING IT. Some combination of PMS and tired had rendered me desiring SILENCE AND ALONE TIME on "My Special Day". My husband offered, and I considered it. But the morning came and my tiny (and not so tiny) humans all piled into my bed and there were kisses and hugs and how could I spend my day alone, when they were the reason for my day?

We went to one of our favorite places, the Vines Gardens which includes a Garden Railroad that's open from May to October and my kids can stop for hours and look at the trains, if you let them. After we'd had the ice cream they were giving away, and enjoyed some cups of lemonade, we made our way through the botanical gardens, wandering the path together - much like we do every day though life.

It was warm and sunny and a beautiful day around the lake.

There will be Mother's Days in the future when they aren't home, when they don't WANT to be home, when walking around a lake and then going to Red Robin for more Rootbeer Floats than you can shake a stick at won't even be appealing.

I feel like the days are slipping away from me and even the time I spend sitting here woolgathering is lost time, moments I am wasting. I should be playing Candyland. Candyland's days are numbered.

But I also know that I need to give my brain a break and rest, and be a little selfish so I can give them all of me when they need me most.

So I won't feel too bad as I spend an hour listening to them play and giggle in the other room. 

My special day was the best day ever, made possible by the presence of the five people I love most in the whole word who aren't my Mom.

Because after all, if it weren't for her, I wouldn't be half the mom I am today. 

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Trains, and Flowers, and Bottomless Rootbeer Floats

I have to confess, the day before Mother's Day, I wasn't FEELING IT. Some combination of PMS and tired had rendered me desiring SILENCE AND ALONE TIME on "My Special Day". My husband offered, and I considered it. But the morning came and my tiny (and not so tiny) humans all piled into my bed and there were kisses and hugs and how could I spend my day alone, when they were the reason for my day?

We went to one of our favorite places, the Vines Gardens which includes a Garden Railroad that's open from May to October and my kids can stop for hours and look at the trains, if you let them. After we'd had the ice cream they were giving away, and enjoyed some cups of lemonade, we made our way through the botanical gardens, wandering the path together - much like we do every day though life.

It was warm and sunny and a beautiful day around the lake.

There will be Mother's Days in the future when they aren't home, when they don't WANT to be home, when walking around a lake and then going to Red Robin for more Rootbeer Floats than you can shake a stick at won't even be appealing.

I feel like the days are slipping away from me and even the time I spend sitting here woolgathering is lost time, moments I am wasting. I should be playing Candyland. Candyland's days are numbered.

But I also know that I need to give my brain a break and rest, and be a little selfish so I can give them all of me when they need me most.

So I won't feel too bad as I spend an hour listening to them play and giggle in the other room. 

My special day was the best day ever, made possible by the presence of the five people I love most in the whole word who aren't my Mom.

Because after all, if it weren't for her, I wouldn't be half the mom I am today. 

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What You Can Do Without

As you can probably imagine, a family of six requires a lot of food to function. It requires more when three of the six are growing boys who eat like hogs. So when my fridge started acting up last weekend, I thought we had solved it. But by early in the week, it was apparent that the reprieve was temporary.

What we have now is a cabinet of two doors that keeps things mildly cool.

We are now a family of six living out of a cooler.

You can pare your life down to very little, when you have to.

Eggs don't have to be refrigerated. Neither does butter. So some cheese, some milk, some lunch meat, sausage for breakfast, almond milk for mom and a couple other things and you're set. You buy everything else daily and try to buy only enough not to have leftovers. After all, you can't save it.

That's a weird wrinkle for a big family. Leftovers are not just the norm, they are a staple. Leftovers are lunch for mom, leftovers are the building blocks of future meals. Leftovers are the stuff Restaurant Night supper is made of. It's an economy that we can't use now, because we can't save anything.

It's not a hardship, really. Or maybe it's a suburban hardship. But we have a big cooler for food and a smaller cooler for ice for drinks. It's a bit like camping out, in your own house. It's an adventure, and weird and inconvenient.

The new fridge will be here later this next week.

Until then, may I interest you in a cheese sandwich?
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What You Can Do Without

As you can probably imagine, a family of six requires a lot of food to function. It requires more when three of the six are growing boys who eat like hogs. So when my fridge started acting up last weekend, I thought we had solved it. But by early in the week, it was apparent that the reprieve was temporary.

What we have now is a cabinet of two doors that keeps things mildly cool.

We are now a family of six living out of a cooler.

You can pare your life down to very little, when you have to.

Eggs don't have to be refrigerated. Neither does butter. So some cheese, some milk, some lunch meat, sausage for breakfast, almond milk for mom and a couple other things and you're set. You buy everything else daily and try to buy only enough not to have leftovers. After all, you can't save it.

That's a weird wrinkle for a big family. Leftovers are not just the norm, they are a staple. Leftovers are lunch for mom, leftovers are the building blocks of future meals. Leftovers are the stuff Restaurant Night supper is made of. It's an economy that we can't use now, because we can't save anything.

It's not a hardship, really. Or maybe it's a suburban hardship. But we have a big cooler for food and a smaller cooler for ice for drinks. It's a bit like camping out, in your own house. It's an adventure, and weird and inconvenient.

The new fridge will be here later this next week.

Until then, may I interest you in a cheese sandwich?
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I Think One Of Those Apocalypse Seals Just Got Broken

You know the ones. The ones where the Angel breaks one and something crazy happens. Like the moon turns to blood, or the seas boil, right? Or, a child gets out of the tub to pee. That's one of them, right?

It probably isn't that abnormal for a TEN YEAR OLD unless of course you're one of my special little guys, and for whatever reason, autism doesn't really help you learn that pull ups at the age of ten are gross. It also doesn't seem to help you realize that peeing in the tub is SO GROSS.

It is doubly gross when you are in there with your brother.

I'd like to pretend that this is an out of the ordinary incident, this tub peeing, but it's not. I do PUT them on the potty and heck sometimes they even GO before the tub. And then the tub comes and it's all WATER WATER EVERYWHERE and yeah sometimes it happens.

Today however, I was toweling off Charlie in the bedroom and Miles was still floating around the tub like a glutton of water and singing something about Y is for Yellow when I looked away and heard the toilet seat clink.

I hopped up and ran in the bathroom to see what had happened.

The child was peeing in the toilet. ON HIS OWN.

There may be hope yet folks. There may be hope yet.
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I Think One Of Those Apocalypse Seals Just Got Broken

You know the ones. The ones where the Angel breaks one and something crazy happens. Like the moon turns to blood, or the seas boil, right? Or, a child gets out of the tub to pee. That's one of them, right?

It probably isn't that abnormal for a TEN YEAR OLD unless of course you're one of my special little guys, and for whatever reason, autism doesn't really help you learn that pull ups at the age of ten are gross. It also doesn't seem to help you realize that peeing in the tub is SO GROSS.

It is doubly gross when you are in there with your brother.

I'd like to pretend that this is an out of the ordinary incident, this tub peeing, but it's not. I do PUT them on the potty and heck sometimes they even GO before the tub. And then the tub comes and it's all WATER WATER EVERYWHERE and yeah sometimes it happens.

Today however, I was toweling off Charlie in the bedroom and Miles was still floating around the tub like a glutton of water and singing something about Y is for Yellow when I looked away and heard the toilet seat clink.

I hopped up and ran in the bathroom to see what had happened.

The child was peeing in the toilet. ON HIS OWN.

There may be hope yet folks. There may be hope yet.
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Taking Action Against The Silence

You might think I mean that I'm trying distract myself with adult conversation through social media, as my adult conversation partner and husband is gone for the weekend, and I am stuck here with twins who don't really converse, and a four year old who tells me I make terrible macaroni and cheese.

Doctor Who fans however know the Truth. They know I'm fighting an invisible foe. They erase your mind after you see them, and you forget they are there doing evil.

What evil are they doing to me, you might ask?

They are leaving my cabinet doors open in the kitchen.

YES YOU HEARD ME. THEY ARE OPENING MY CABINET DOORS TO DRIVE ME BATTY.

For years, my husband and I have scratched our head at our cabinets, wondering if we were really this forgetful or did we have a cabinet door opening ghost. As I was alone this weekend here in my house shrouded by woods full of coyotes and windigo (ok I'm pretty sure we have a windigo why else would it be so spooky outside at night?). Anyway, yesterday I SNAPPED and decided that by GOD with all the things I am dealing with I am NOT dealing with the Silence.

So I carefully closed all of the cabinet doors, and I wrote CLOSED on the fridge whiteboard.

Guess what - THEY ALL STAYED CLOSED.

I guess they are nervous now that they are found out! I hope this teaches them a lesson and they move on to harassing my neighbors.

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Taking Action Against The Silence

You might think I mean that I'm trying distract myself with adult conversation through social media, as my adult conversation partner and husband is gone for the weekend, and I am stuck here with twins who don't really converse, and a four year old who tells me I make terrible macaroni and cheese.

Doctor Who fans however know the Truth. They know I'm fighting an invisible foe. They erase your mind after you see them, and you forget they are there doing evil.

What evil are they doing to me, you might ask?

They are leaving my cabinet doors open in the kitchen.

YES YOU HEARD ME. THEY ARE OPENING MY CABINET DOORS TO DRIVE ME BATTY.

For years, my husband and I have scratched our head at our cabinets, wondering if we were really this forgetful or did we have a cabinet door opening ghost. As I was alone this weekend here in my house shrouded by woods full of coyotes and windigo (ok I'm pretty sure we have a windigo why else would it be so spooky outside at night?). Anyway, yesterday I SNAPPED and decided that by GOD with all the things I am dealing with I am NOT dealing with the Silence.

So I carefully closed all of the cabinet doors, and I wrote CLOSED on the fridge whiteboard.

Guess what - THEY ALL STAYED CLOSED.

I guess they are nervous now that they are found out! I hope this teaches them a lesson and they move on to harassing my neighbors.

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On Duty

My husband and oldest son have disappeared into the north Georgia mountains. Not in a bad way. They are Boy Scout camping. It's been my son's dream for the past few years of scouts to make this trip, and every year something went wrong and it didn't work out. THIS year it happened.

As they were heading out the door, my husband said "OH NO THE ICE CREAM IS SOFT!!" and we had a mutual panic moment. He suggest I vacuum the intake and coils and whatever on the back to make sure the air flow was good and I smiled confidently and said SURE I WILL DO THAT.

Then he left and I panicked. The freezer just WASN'T cold enough. I cleared off the top, realized it was so dirty that I should probably be ashamed and pulled that sucker out. OH MY GOD HOW DOES SO MUCH DUST EXIST IN ONE PLACE? And how does dust GET to places? These are the questions I was asking as I put together the wand attachment and went to work.It wasn't that bad to do, other than the ick factor and after having cleaned the top (because seriously I am so lazy but I can't be so lazy I don't clean off the top no really I can't) I rearranged the cookbooks and odds & ends and put it all back.

The freezer was still too warm.

I went about my evening, worrying, playing with the kids - this involved loud guns that I hate but they like, and chasing. I checked on the fridge. It was -5 C. Or so it said. The ice wasn't melting - but I felt panicked. THAT SEEMED WRONG. I had a brilliant idea and got the meat thermometer and put it on the shelf inside.

An hour later it said 40 degrees. This would be the part where panic set in. I began running through the "what to do", buy a cooler, ice down everything...I wasn't sure. I texted my husband casually to see if he had signal. He didn't answer. MORE PANIC.

After dinner, the temperature had gone down 2 degrees. I resolved to STAY OUT of the freezer to see if there was improvement.

My kids went to bed, and with the evening in front of me, and dreading my morning, I went too.

At 7 am they all three bounced awake and I made the walk of doom down to the freezer. I expected a flood, or worse. I don't know WHAT would have been worse I just knew not to underestimate the horror show that was about to occur and I was alone and going to have to sort it out like an adult.

There was no flood. The thermometer said 30 degrees fahrenheit.

AT THAT POINT THERE WAS GREAT REJOICING.

It's not 9 am yet, and I've fed my kids and done my dishes and cleaned up the kitchen, PLUS run the vacuum.

This being the adult stuff is for the birds.
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On Duty

My husband and oldest son have disappeared into the north Georgia mountains. Not in a bad way. They are Boy Scout camping. It's been my son's dream for the past few years of scouts to make this trip, and every year something went wrong and it didn't work out. THIS year it happened.

As they were heading out the door, my husband said "OH NO THE ICE CREAM IS SOFT!!" and we had a mutual panic moment. He suggest I vacuum the intake and coils and whatever on the back to make sure the air flow was good and I smiled confidently and said SURE I WILL DO THAT.

Then he left and I panicked. The freezer just WASN'T cold enough. I cleared off the top, realized it was so dirty that I should probably be ashamed and pulled that sucker out. OH MY GOD HOW DOES SO MUCH DUST EXIST IN ONE PLACE? And how does dust GET to places? These are the questions I was asking as I put together the wand attachment and went to work.It wasn't that bad to do, other than the ick factor and after having cleaned the top (because seriously I am so lazy but I can't be so lazy I don't clean off the top no really I can't) I rearranged the cookbooks and odds & ends and put it all back.

The freezer was still too warm.

I went about my evening, worrying, playing with the kids - this involved loud guns that I hate but they like, and chasing. I checked on the fridge. It was -5 C. Or so it said. The ice wasn't melting - but I felt panicked. THAT SEEMED WRONG. I had a brilliant idea and got the meat thermometer and put it on the shelf inside.

An hour later it said 40 degrees. This would be the part where panic set in. I began running through the "what to do", buy a cooler, ice down everything...I wasn't sure. I texted my husband casually to see if he had signal. He didn't answer. MORE PANIC.

After dinner, the temperature had gone down 2 degrees. I resolved to STAY OUT of the freezer to see if there was improvement.

My kids went to bed, and with the evening in front of me, and dreading my morning, I went too.

At 7 am they all three bounced awake and I made the walk of doom down to the freezer. I expected a flood, or worse. I don't know WHAT would have been worse I just knew not to underestimate the horror show that was about to occur and I was alone and going to have to sort it out like an adult.

There was no flood. The thermometer said 30 degrees fahrenheit.

AT THAT POINT THERE WAS GREAT REJOICING.

It's not 9 am yet, and I've fed my kids and done my dishes and cleaned up the kitchen, PLUS run the vacuum.

This being the adult stuff is for the birds.
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