What in the flying cardinal cock am I suppose to do with two kids? Panic mode is starting to set it. We took the stroller and car seat out of their boxes last night. Took us an hour to work the frigging things, in which Girth declared it to basically be a transformer. Then I watched him push it through the house and the panic went away. We can do this.
Then he goes to work in the morning.
And I freak out again.
Two kids. Two kids. Two kids. My luxury of napping when a new baby naps will not be available. Because there will be another one strolling through the house. Two babes will be screaming my name. A small one when it wants to be fed, or for pretty much any other reason- only she knows, and the other one more than likely because the cat jacked his ass up again. We went through an entire box of band aids over his Winter vacation. A spec of blood and he loses his mind...certainly won't be a doctor. Then again, he won't be a serial killer either, so that's a plus.
Two kids. Two sets of demands.
I have also decided that I will not be doing tea parties, or fake eating/drinking with Charlee. If she wants me to sit down at a small table to play lunchtime or whatever small girl children do for fun, she better have made me something to eat. A panini maker is effortless...she better throw something in there that I can attempt to actually eat. I will color and draw all day long with her...but I am not sharing my crayons with her. She'll probably learn that the hard way.
How am I suppose to eat food alone?? I'll obviously never bathe alone again. Probably never going to have sex for more than 4 minutes at a time again. It's hard enough getting Girth to put out now. I was SO CLOSE the other day. Nine o'clock at night, in the kitchen with Girth, haven't even been gross in front of him all day long.
I'm really on the verge of getting some.
Instead, I got the BG's.
I trot out of the kitchen, farting the entire way to the bathroom. Huge farts rip every time each foot hit the floor. Got to the bathroom. My asshole all but exploded. He comes to the bathroom, looks at me in my vile condition, one word out of his mouth,
"Nope".
Just like that. I get nothing.
Then he goes to work in the morning.
And I freak out again.
Two kids. Two kids. Two kids. My luxury of napping when a new baby naps will not be available. Because there will be another one strolling through the house. Two babes will be screaming my name. A small one when it wants to be fed, or for pretty much any other reason- only she knows, and the other one more than likely because the cat jacked his ass up again. We went through an entire box of band aids over his Winter vacation. A spec of blood and he loses his mind...certainly won't be a doctor. Then again, he won't be a serial killer either, so that's a plus.
Two kids. Two sets of demands.
I have also decided that I will not be doing tea parties, or fake eating/drinking with Charlee. If she wants me to sit down at a small table to play lunchtime or whatever small girl children do for fun, she better have made me something to eat. A panini maker is effortless...she better throw something in there that I can attempt to actually eat. I will color and draw all day long with her...but I am not sharing my crayons with her. She'll probably learn that the hard way.
How am I suppose to eat food alone?? I'll obviously never bathe alone again. Probably never going to have sex for more than 4 minutes at a time again. It's hard enough getting Girth to put out now. I was SO CLOSE the other day. Nine o'clock at night, in the kitchen with Girth, haven't even been gross in front of him all day long.
I'm really on the verge of getting some.
Instead, I got the BG's.
I trot out of the kitchen, farting the entire way to the bathroom. Huge farts rip every time each foot hit the floor. Got to the bathroom. My asshole all but exploded. He comes to the bathroom, looks at me in my vile condition, one word out of his mouth,
"Nope".
Just like that. I get nothing.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Say something!