Thursday, August 11, 2011

Happy End-of-the-work-week-Thursday! Oh, this isn't the end of your work week? Sucks to be you.

Yea for three day weekends! Knowing that I don't have to drag my ass in here tomorrow almost makes all the 9-hour days worth it. Maybe you don't think 9-hour days are such a big deal, but my total daily commute is approximately 105 miles, so it's actually almost a 12-hour work day depending on traffic (or would be if I didn't enjoy my commute so much. It's the only alone time I have). The couple hours I have with the kids when I get home are actually more exhausting than my entire work day. From the second we walk in the door it's this explosion of things that need to be done, and mouths to force food into. Yesterday, Russell didn't get home until 8:40ish, so I was single-momming it all night with the kids.

Zoey tries to escape from the reality that is her life, but finds herself unable to break the barriers I've placed.
 This, sadly, resulted in french toast for dinner. Even that was potentially a parent fail. Smarty-mom didn't take the cat food and water off of the floor, so Zee immediately up-ended the water bowl while I basically cooked glorified toast. This may have been the fifth time. Does that disqualify me for mom of the year? Also, if she ate cat food? Is that a problem?

The poster child for neglect, Zoey plays with those ugly curtains, for which I'm not responsible.
It was Russell's bath night, which only makes sense, being that he wasn't going to be home in time to do it. So I took care of baths. On the bright side, this allowed Riley an opportunity to continue the saga we've been composing out of foam bath letters. I think it's about a fly and his tendency to throw lavish parties. The first book was called "Flys Farty Party" (I wish I could say that Riley came up with that name, but it was all me). The second was called "Thanks for the party Fly" (they don't make foam bath punctuation). Last night, as I got Zoey ready for bed, Riley continued the series on his own:

Apparently Fly's back at it.
 You read it here, folks. Party over at my place- if you don't mind flies.

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