The Hangover

I've had a full glass of Iced Coffee this morning. AND. A soda.

Yes, it's one of those kind of mornings.

First, let me just say that I had an amazing work day yesterday. I got a ridiculous amount of work done. Like, more work than I knew could get done in a span of like six hours.

I was just amazed.

Is this what it would always be like if I only had had one child? (She asks thoughtfully, with a half smile on her face....)

But the answer is no.

One kid doesn't mean easy either.

Stryker is easy. But it took three tries to get him.... So....

But anyways. The girls came home after a wonderful day with their Nana. She is just their most favorite person ever.

And they talked my ear off for an hour about what they did and where they went.


Then it was time for bed.

Two things were wrong with going to bed.

First. I hadn't had the air on all day. I frankly, don't need air conditioning. I could sweat it out all summer. I don't mind. And something really, really bothers me about artificial air.

I hate the smell of it.

And it makes me feel very, very claustrophobic. Which, I don't usually have an issue with it.

You know, like how you're not scared of flying at all, but then you get on the plane and you start thinking about all of the recycled air and breathing in and out all of those other peoples carbon dioxide and that nasty cool airplane air that makes you freeze and sweat at the same time?

Please. Tell me somebody knows what I'm talking about.

Ok, anyways, by the time the girls got home, it was a balmy 85 degrees in this house.

Yes. 85.

And all of the windows had been opened in the house, except for the girls. An oversight from the storm the night before.

A big oversight.


The Ba-bas were both, left at Nana's.


It was awful.

I mean, trying to convince them that it was ok to go to bed with out their beloved blankets was like trying to convince a fish that it is perfectly safe to live on dry land.

I know. That was a weird analogy.

So. There they are in their beds, exhausted from an extra fun day, crying about bedtime and more specifically their Ba-bas and I had to make the executive decision to turn on the air.

I mean, seriously. Scarlett was dripping in sweat. Her poor little curly head was soaking wet and she looked like she had just walked out of the shower.

So. The air went on last night. And once it was finally cool, the girls took to their "Substitute" Ba-bas and finally were quiet.

Until 5:45 this morning that is.

They, apparently need their special lovey's to both go to sleep and stay asleep....

Anyways. This morning we are all tired. And they are cranky. And now I have a headache. And so I'm self-medicating with caffeine.

And trying to get the blasted laundry done.

Miriah. If I move to Nashville? Are you serious about the laundry?????

Yes, maybe it is worth it to me to uproot our lives, make Zach find a new job and move across the country just to get someone else to do my ten loads of laundry a week.

Don't judge.

So. Who wants to hear about Zach's Bachelor Party???

All of you?

None of you?

Ok. Well, I'm telling it anyways.

So while I was home wrestling the girls to bed, my lovely husband was off enjoying his night of heathen debauchery and mayhem.

That sounds pathetic.

I had none of those feelings.

I was never worried about strippers. Or strip clubs. Or straight up hookers. Or any trips near the border of Council Bluffs.

I wasn't even worried about a casino.

This was so not one of those parties.

This was a Bachelor Party for a really upstanding guy. And so. Instead of the Razzle Dazzle and A No Touching Rule. They had dinner at a nice restaurant and then went to a bar where the groom was forced to complete a series of impossible challenges.

Such as eating an entire spoon of cinnamon.

Or 13 saltines in under a minute.

You know. Normal things like that....

And then when the poor guy failed. Failure was a little predictable for a guy that rarely drinks and was well into the evening. His older, doctor of a brother pulled out the plaster and casted an entire appendage of his!

Like. First his right arm.

Second his entire left leg.

When Zach left, they were talking about doing the other leg.

And he couldn't walk as it was. They were wheeling him around in a wheel barrel.

Miriah said that I was really confident in my marriage, but.. can you blame Zach from skipping out a little early?

I would have not known what to do had I walked into a bar and saw a full grown, intoxicated man in a full blown body caste being pushed around in a wheel barrel.

He was also wearing a shower curtain for a cape. And carrying a toilet plunger for a scepter.

Oh. My.

I am just glad I am a girl. And we have lunches and bridal showers and personal showers.

Some girls do the whole bachelorette thing. I didn't. But some girls do. And even still, I don't think we would do that to each other....

Maybe I'm wrong.

But I'm pretty sure I don't have a single friend that would plaster up my appendages, leave me to hobble around a filthy bar inebriated and then drop me off at home the next morning with a hand saw, saying good luck with this buddy.

And I think that's a good thing....


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