High as a kite

My husband painted our downstairs hallway (finally) and the fumes are making me high as a kite.


Taking my oldest son to my parents, my youngest son announced his need to throw up. Never give a carsick-prone child a book in the car.

It's the day after Christmas and that tree is already in the basement.

A trip to the gynecologist the day after Christmas is not a gift.

My children survive on Dora soup, peanut butter, cinnamon bread, and oatmeal.

The commercial with Ryan Seacrest and his breath that's "like a minty fresh snowstorm, in heaven.", makes me roll with laughter.

I switched sides of the bed and there is nothing Ted can do about it.

I love my devil children. Even if they are rotten little stinks.