Outnumbered Two to One

Ever had one of those days…when the inspiration just gets sucked out of you?

Okay, so maybe I’ve had two. I don’t know. It’s hard to tell when all the days get lumped. It’s like when you mix all the Playdoh colors together - red stops being red, blue stops being blue, you just get a fistful of clay the color of overcooked broccoli. It’s just not appetizing.

How do you beat the blahs anyway?

So far I’ve tried cleaning, which left the house smelling nicer but did nothing for my mood. Particularly when my floor was promptly soiled by pudding and corn then my sofa slathered in puke…again? Yes again, the culprit this time…a hunk of Laffy Taffy lodged in my two-year-old’s throat. Banana flavored if you must know.

I also tried reacquainting myself with my inner child, but alas, my five-year-old doesn’t like getting the pants beat off of him on the Wii. Apparently it stops being fun for him when Mom dominates the scoreboard. Sure I have days when I let him win, sure there are days when he is legitimately the better player. But today, wasn’t one of those days. So I beat him. Again. And again. And again.

In your face, sonny boy.

It still didn’t help.

I had pizza for dinner. My husband brought home Girl Scout cookies. It’s Friday night.

And still. I feel. So. Blah.

I’m the sad clown. And if that isn’t bad enough, my head also hurts. And someone smells like poop. I’m not saying who. But that kid, in the smelly diaper, needs to limit his stinkier bodily functions to a one a day maximum. Seriously.

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