Dearest Darling Husband,
You may wonder why I am writing you in the middle of the day. I thought it might be best to warn you in advance.
I'm having one of "those" days.
If you check the time, you will see that it is currently naptime. Unfortunately, nobody seems to have informed the girls of this and instead they are wandering about the house dripping food onto the (freshly mopped) floors.
I am down to my last nerve and it is about to snap.
The house is a disaster. There is STUFF everywhere! No matter how much I clean, they are right behind me tearing papers out of drawers and toys off of shelves. My current dream in life is to vacuum the stairs and scrub out the shower in our bathroom. Somehow, I do not think Mr. Luther King would be impressed.
To make matters worse, the Snot Queen is insisting on feeding her sister chunks of turkey mince (she has no teeth) from a fork (she has no aim.) This is not good for my nerves.
The small one has discovered some sort of wormhole which she randomly reaches into and pulls out a handful of cotton wool which I end up inevitably fishing out of her mouth (along with the giant chunks of turkey mince.) I have yet to discover the source.
A bowl of spaghetti just hit the floor.
I want to cry.
Or move away. Far, far away. By myself.
The washing machine is still broken and the clothes are about to walk out of the laundry hamper.
The soundtrack to my day goes something like this;
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! MOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMYYYYY!!!!!!! (music in background: "...do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself about...") "Ehhhhhhh Ehhhhhhhhhhh!" "AAAAAAAAGGHHHHH!!!!" ("...right leg in and you shake it all about...") "MOOOOOOMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYY" THUNK! CRASH! "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" "NO NO NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! MOMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!" "GET OFF THE TABLE!!!!!" "NOW!!!!!" "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!"
The girls are covered in a disgusting mixture of snot and lunch.
Another bowl of spaghetti just hit the ground.
I cannot guarantee I will be here when you get home.
If I am though, tread carefully. Forewarned is forearmed...
Your loving wife