I'm super duper annoyed with myself for being a slacker. It's totally fair for you all to be annoyed with me too. I can't really explain why I haven't been blogging much without sounding like Whiney Whinerson, so I'll try to keep it brief since I don't love crying into my blog like it's a hankie:
Some dudes royally screwed the pooch with our house (Remember? The gorgeous, monster house I love so dearly and posted about before? That house. Yup.) and we ended up with a basement (which is where the kids' rooms are) full of mold. And, as it turns out, basement walls full of water. And a bunch of douchey contractors that refused to acknowledge the scope of the problem until I took it upon myself to start ripping baseboards off the walls. It's awesome. No, like truly AWESOME. That nonsense isn't fit for human habitation so I have all 4 kids sleeping in my bedroom. Yup - all 4. (On the plus side, hooray for a master bedroom big enough for 1 queen bed, 1 crib, 1 Pack 'n Play and 1 twin-sized bed!) And remember my struggles with Chronic Laundry Buildup? Imagine what CLB symptoms look like when I no longer have THREE closets in which to hang 4 children's worth of clothing and when I cannot fold the 894 onesies Peyton has into dressers or the 9,476 socks Jack possesses or the 88 pairs of pants I have for the twins are homeless due to dressers being in mold-infested places. So I've brought the dresser drawers upstairs and they ALSO number among the orphaned furniture items now cluttering up my bedroom. And I have essentially no time to do anything because I spend about 75% of my life on the phone trying to get someone to do something beyond painting Killz on some baseboards and expecting me to be happy with that.
Dudes, it sucks. Look:
And this is what I found when I pulled the baseboards off the wall in Peyton's room. Grody, no?
So I've been a super delightful person lately and haven't really wanted to burden anyone with my anger and frustration - my poor kiddos get enough of it as it is. (I think we're all just getting tired of me being on the phone and us being reduced to 900 square feet of living space and constantly sushing because someone is always sleeping nearby - usually Peyton or Justin if he's on night shift) and no one having their own space to go to get away from the others...
Blech. Be glad you're not me. Actually, be glad you're not the contractors working with me because I reduced 3 grown men to near tears yesterday.
Or be glad you're not a baseboard in my basement because that would mean I had abused you with a crow bar.