I would never have survived living 150 years ago. First of all, without birth control I would have 27 kids by now, and when I got mastitis each time, there would be no lovely drugs to make it all go away. I love drugs. Wait, maybe I shouldn't say that, or someday Marty will run for President and the opposing campaign will quote me out of context. "Potential First Lady admits to loving drugs as a mother of young children! Jerry Springer has the story." Well, if Marty runs for president, I think that would be the least of the country's concerns. His plan to solve the war on terror is to just bomb the entire country of Iraq (he would warn them first, so the civilians could get out) and pave the whole thing and put a Wal-Mart right in the middle, with a sign that says "Brought to you by the U. S. of A.!" Yeah, I know, that is not a good plan. I would not vote for him for president. Love you, honey!
Anywhoo, I am feeling much better today. Not 100%, but definitely well enough to beat my children if necessary. I probably should not admit that one, either. Oh, well.
This morning, I gave the kids cereal and got ready. I was doing my best to get in the shower when I heard screaming. I came out into my room to find Grant had spilled his cereal, and instead of cleaning it up, he was hysterical that Ben was picking up the cereal and putting it in his own cup. Grant is sobbing, "Momma! Cereal! Bubba!" and pointing at Ben, who was working happily away. I simply said, "Grant, pick up your own cereal faster and you won't have to worry about it." I walked away. Someday these boys will need to learn to solve their own problems, right?
Well, Grant solved it. I heard more screaming, and found Ben crying as Grant had stolen his cereal cup, dumped the entire contents into his own, and given Ben back the empty cup. I have to admit, I was a little proud of Grant for his problem-solving skills, but I did give Ben back his half of the cereal and inform Grant that we do not take anyone else's food. I keep reminding myself that these are skills they are learning that will serve them well later in life, and are not purely designed by the devil himself to drive me to the nut house. And not the local, yummy Nut House, where you get to eat food and throw peanut shells on the floor, but the real nut house with the men in white coats that sing, "They're coming to take me away, haha!" I should really quit blogging now, I am not making any sense.
**Disclaimer- This post was written under the influence of drugs. I mean, prescription drugs. You know, the kind that were prescribed to me, not bought off the street. Anyway, I am not responsible for the contents of this post, and do not necessarily agree with the opinions expressed here today. I will completely deny this entire post if ever I or my family become famous and Jerry tries to use this against me. Thank you.