Bloggy Strike Day

I am not writing a blog post today. I refuse. If you had my day, you would refuse too.

I'm tired.

I'm grumpy.

I have to take my child to music class today where we will sing and dance to children's songs that I have not been able to get out of my head for 6 weeks. Yesterday, I took Toddler to 5 different stores (which should get me a gold medal in the first place), and a tired woman with a toddler of her own came up and told me she and her daughter sang all those songs too. Apparently Toddler and I were singing them through the stores.

My child told me he deliberately peed in his training pants so he could wear a diaper again.

I have been away from home for too many weekends in a row, and people can tell what my original hair color was. I'm afraid that if I keep this up, I will find that I am really gray. No. No. That will not happen. On the other hand, I am refusing to take Toddler to the hair stylist on the subway, with a stroller, to wait in the hair salon when our portable DVD player has broken. I have my limits and so does the general public.

Last night I was woken up not once, but twice, by two separate cats yacking on me and one cat fight. After a quick bed change in the middle of the night, I know I am facing another full day of laundry to deal with the aftermath. As if that weren't enough, someone apparently slipped a decongestant into my spaghetti without my knowledge, and I was up several times expelling water I never drank in the first place.

My son does not like spaghetti or macaroni and cheese (although he likes Tuna noodle casserole with cream sauce) and would rather just sit there and whine for applesauce.

My mother and Darling Husband have been sick for several days. Neither one of them will take medicine without nagging. This morning Toddler woke up with a faucet coming out his nose and a viscious post-nasal cough.

I own two pairs of jeans and I just noticed that one of them is almost see through in patches under the right light. I don't want to think about how many places I have been to recently that have "the right light."

I spent yesterday evening watching Darling Husband apply a wallpaper border.

People, I am not a saint.