Come Home Soon

This is day four of my second round of single parenthood.  I must say that I am ready to lose my mind. Between Sophie's ass on fire dance and Ava's six month growth spurt I need a vacation.

I think I am a real chicken farmer now. Matt usually takes care of the chickens in the winter. Why? Well, it is frickin cold outside and I birthed the children- I believe that two unmedicated births and a c section entitle me to something, right? Anyway, while Matt is gone I am on chicken duty.  I could not figure out how to work the water container. So there I am in capri yoga pants, Uggs, and Matt's parka swearing at the chickens for something that is clearly not their fault.  I know what they were thinking though. Something along the lines of " look, that dumbass can't even figure out the water container bok bok"…. I know they were laughing at me, the little bitches….

Last night, between Ava getting up to nurse and Sophie needing to go out and run laps around the deck, I think I got a few hours of sleep. I woke at six a.m. to the sound of a cat expelling a hairball. Nice.

I have not changed the garbage, done only one load of laundry, the vacuum has not been moved at all. Emily is whining for a cell phone (there is no way on God's green earth that she is getting one). She claims she needs one incase she gets kidnapped. Really? The kidnapper is going to let you call your mom? ….

So, I need my husband. I said it. I suck at this single parent thing. The kids love him, I love him, the pets love him, and the chickens…. I am sure they prefer him. At least they don't get verbally abused when he changes the water.