I guess that it was inevitable that I would just go ahead and make my pissing and moaning about life public.
So, here goes on sharing little bits and pieces of working full time, parenting our three rambunctious boys, and letting our house go to hell.
J, dh, is sickeningly perfect. He has no vices; he stays trim, he doesn't drink or smoke. He doesn't even like caffeine or chocolate - does this invalidate his American citizenship? He leaves his desk completely clear at the end of the day and doesn't ever speak ill of others. His main vice is that he makes me look like a fat tyrant.
The wrecking crew:
The oldest, Z, is six (and a half). He is getting ready for first grade and spending the summer at home with me. I had foolishly believed that I could do my summer work with him underfoot. He is sensitive, bright, creative, and provides a narrative of all of our activities all of the time - if he is silent, he is sleeping (or sucked into a vortex in the television). He is sure to provide helpful hints, louder and more insistent the more frustrated you become.
Our middle child, B, just turned four. He is a spitfire. If he doesn't have something productive to do... he'll find something else to do. Typical exchange:
The house is quiet, too quiet.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting more water."
Pause while this sinks in.
B is simultaneously the most likely to make me blow a gasket and the most likely to melt my heart.
The "baby", T, will be two soon. T is a study in perpetual motion. He idolizes his older brothers. He learns new words every day, I hope to avoid him picking up any naughty words - I use them far too often.
The only other female (does she count - she is fixed?) is our golden retriever, Katie. She is a wild, counter-surfing, trash-diving fool.