We've been up since 4 a.m. when Monster#1 and Monster#2 came to our bed for some quixotic reason.
Luckily they've been trained well: They wake the husband and not me.
They've learned what Mama's wrath can be in the middle of the night.
The husband and I went to the movies last night: Our idiot brother.
It was lovely and uplifting.
We came home late and I only went to bed at around 2, having missed my first sleep time-slot, and then having to wait for another one to come around.
4 a.m. is quite a bummer then.
Meanwhile Son#1 and Son#3 are sick, so am I.
Son#2 is just being an evil little dragon, spewing swearwords and insults and screaming 'No' as often as he can.
As I write, the boys are fighting, as they've been doing the entire morning.
A door post just fell on Son#1's head.
The charms of living in a 350 year-old house.
He'll live, I suppose.
My only ambition today is to actually get out of my pajamas, and most importantly, brush my teeth.
Living the high life.
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