The adults at blither blather headquarters are 1/2 worthless today. Mr B has done quite a bit of traveling in the last few weeks-as well as deal with the pressures of grad school and work-which means that we've both taken on more household jobs and responsibilities than normal. Why is it that when life gets more busy and stressful, the laundry piles up faster, the bills get back logged, the boys get invited to more costly events, the coach changes game times, the neighbors need favors, the lawn mower won't start, the pantry is barren, the house you just picked up is a wreck again, the dog is puking by the piano, and the kids are whining and bitchin' and tattle telling more than usual, and somebody is hungry-again??? So, Mr B and I are trying to summon the energy to crack the whip around here...unsuccessfully.
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Earlier that morning: I'm floating in the tub, catching up and chatting with Mr B about the crazy events of the past 36 hours while he's been away, when lil brother hollers in the back door, "Moooooommmmmmm!!!!! Is dad really Santa?" So I holler back from my bubbles, "Uh.....nooooo!!!!!" At which point Mr B wordlessly gets up, strides to the garage where clean up duty is supposed to be going on, and has an intense, private conversation with big kid (through gritted teeth, narrowed eyes, and increased blood pressure). When I ask what he said to big kid...he refuses to spill the details. And I guess that's okay-cause I bet it was pretty traumatizing. Big kid knows his dad's not talking to hear his own voice. And I can assure you, he better not mess with grouchy Santa.
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