My husband has been in VEGAS since sunday morning.

He left at 6am so let’s just call that Saturday night.

My *almost* four year old has become obsessed with his birthday.

Where is my cake Is my cake ready?

Are you getting my cake

Where is my cake?

Are we getting my cake?

Where is my cake Is my cake ready?

Are you getting my cake

Where is my cake?

Are we getting my cake

Oh, and his birthday? JUNE 19th.

Shoot me. And the cake while you’re at it.

He seems to have woke up with a cold today. That rocks.

My older son ate a box of Lucky Charms for dinner. A whole box. Like there’s one rainbow marshmallow stuck in the corner. Of course, maybe if I wasn’t laying down trying to keep my head from exploding, I would have noticed.

I showered on monday. Today is thursday. You do the math.

I’ve eaten 3.5 donuts. Today.

It’s looking up. To the sky, where Scott should be getting his ass on a plane any hour now.

Smelly or not, I’m ready

___________________________

This was a comment I left on Harpers Happenings.  She was encouraging people to complain.  So I did.  There and here.  I’m an equal opportunity complainer.

I’ll shut up now.

Or I won’t

PS. My husband should not underestimate his level of caffeine for this weekend.

PPS. I may dump pixie sticks into my children’s breakfast right before I grab my car keys

“Geez honey, I have no idea why they are so crazy.  They must have really missed you”

___________________________

Update:

The house that was rented in Vegas had fleas.