One of those days. Allow me to share.
I'm having one of those days.
First of all, can I possibly eat more? Could I get a shovel? I have a horrid case of the munchies and I just can't stop. Of course, it doesn't help that people I know like to pile on the bakery goods because we have a "large family" even though they know that I'm trying to maintain a 100 lb weight loss and the Two Bite Brownies (recipe by Satan, these things are fucking delicious and 100% evil) are not going to help that.
And I'm planning on re-heating the remains of the humungous lasagna that I made for Millie's soiree the other day, and that was made with full fat ingredients. Mmmmm. And I'm not going to apologize for it, dammit. My pants still fit.
Here's the kind of shit I'm getting from the under-18 crowd today: Beavis came in a few minutes ago. Remember a few entries ago, I mentioned how Hub locked all of his tools in the shed to save them from the hands of Beavis (well, from Butthead too but Beavis is the prime offender).
Anyway, my darling little demon comes to the door and says, "Mom, can you give me the keys to the shed?". To which I respond in my loving way, "For what?!". And he answers, ever so eloquently, "I need to look for something in there.". "Like what?". "Something". I'm no dummy. I know that "something" is short for "something I don't want to tell you". So I just start ignoring him. And he waits a few seconds or so and says, "Mom?". And I look at him. And he says, "Can I have the keys?". And I say, "If you can't tell me what you're going to get from there, I can't give you the keys".
So. He decides to tell me. "I need to look and see if there's any gas in there". I'm telling you, I can't make this shit up! Gas! For him! HA! Anything gas powered that he has is currently out of service. So he had no legitimate use for it.
My response? "Get outta here! Gas! You're on glue!". He didn't even argue.
The other two things that are irking me are my kid and my friend's kid.
Mickey has been a whiney pissbag today. Anything I need to do, he doesn't want to do. And he's quite vocal about it. But not in English, our primary language. No, my sweet wittle baby is bi-lingual. He also speaks Whine. He's fluent.
My friend's kid is "Gabby". I've just started watching her as my friend, "Heidi", has just re-gained custody of her from her parents. Gabby is going to be 3 next week, but I think Heidi's parents have treated her like she's a baby. No independence at all, at least not what I'm used to from one her age. Still has a pacifier, and is also fluent in Whine. Constantly. "I want Mommy". "I want Daddy". Four syllables dragged out over a ten minute time span.
I realize the kid is going through some big changes right now. And she's new to my house, where I don't pander to babying kids, and she has to adapt here too. And I'd never take it out on the poor kid. I'm not as harsh as I sound (like a true step-mom, I save bad treatment for Hub's kids only. And Beavis). But. I'm losing patience and I need to vent. That's all.
Damn. That lasagna is calling my name.
Oh. And preacher brother Bill will be over on Friday. I think I can handle the Jesus talk for the afternoon. What I'm worried about is this: I don't have the specific yet as to whether or not MIllie will be joining Bill and his wife. (That's MIllie with double caps). See, cuz I can handle getting the hard press Jesus push from Bill, which probably it won't be that bad, but I don't think I can handle any more Millie. Especially at my house. Jeez. It's pure torure. She follows me around while I'm doing chores and shit. "Oh, look, you fold you towels just like I do".
Did I mention when we showed up to her house on Sunday that she didn't have her teeth in yet? Yeah. Right Purty, that Millie.
I gotta go. Kids are bitching that they're hungry. Bastards. UPDATE TO MY SHITTY TUESDAY: Shitty, literally. Mickey, 4 y/o, big veggie fan, is potty training. He's got the pee-pee thing down pat. Poo poo? Nope, not even close. I'm not doing Pull-ups, cuz he'll just piss and shit himself in those, so he's in straight underwear. So, last night, after my oh-so-wonderful day, I took him upstairs for a bath. He let me know he had a poop in his pants. That he'd been sitting on top of throughout all of Spongebob and the Fairly Oddparents. Suffice it to say, said poo was stuck tight to his little Shark's Tale tighties. So, I had to remove this from the underwear. Cucumber seeds and all. Then I touched it! Ew! GOt some under my fingernail! Yeah, I had some gagging going on. Then I put him in the tub after that nightmare. So, the little shit plays in the tub for a few. And then, like I should have fucking known this would happen, I noticed the goddamn brown shark floating in the tub. "The brown shark is coming out of the cave!" (That's Eddie Murphy, I believe). I gave up. I couldn't handle anymore shit without puking. Hub had the honor of disposing of the bathtub poopie. Yeah, and then I found out that Millie IS coming up on Friday. Anybody got a gun? Cuz I'd just like to shoot myself now.
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