L barfed last night. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day (I know you can't hear my sarcasm here, but believe me, it's bleeding through). Not only did E scream at me for two hours in the afternoon and then refuse her dinner (and then screamed more afterwards), L kept dragging the laundry to different corners of the house to "sleep" on, causing me to keep gathering it up before I could wash it. ARGH. Then, L made faces all through dinner that she didn't want her food, but our policy is you eat everything on your plate. She did, but it took her 45 minutes. Then, my husband took her upstairs and she promptly vomited everything up on her letter/number mat. If you don't know what those are, here's an example. If you do know what they are, you understand that the mat comes apart and there are a million little corners and edges that things can seep into. So, while the husband cleaned up both girls (don't ask me how E got it on her too) in the tub, I got to use Lysol wipes and wipe down every. f*ing. piece. of that stupid mat to clean and disinfect it. JOY. Then, the husband basically thrusts her barfed-on clothing (and his) at me. Thanks. It's good to know that, in the chain of everything in this household, my duties are on par with barf. I'm just as good as barf. Barf and I should mate. ... After getting everything cleaned up and tossed in the wash (my sixth load of the day), my brother called to chat. No problem, it's very nice when he does that, but the phone died on me. Not once, but TWICE. Two different f*ing phones in the house die on me while I tried to talk to him. Just...OKAY UNIVERSE, DO YOU JUST WANT ME TO CRY UNCLE?!??? YOU WIN, PLEASE JUST STOP WITH ALL THE CRAP.
I'm sincerely hoping today is a better day. No barf please.
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