Just a Week In the Life....of Motherfucking Ex Housewife

*When one gets divorced but still is a Mother does she cease to be a "Housewife"? Is she now a "Housemother"? Wouldn't she be confused with a "Fraternity Housemother"? And when she begins referring to herself in the third person and putting "quotes" around every other word does she get presents? Just wondering. Alice likes granny panties and coffee, FYI.

So I've been home with the chitlinz for a week straight now and I'm beginning to hallucinate a teensy bit. I'm all out of words. Been using them up on the boys. Here are some numbers and pictures to sum up the week. Enjoy and Happy Festivus to all.

4: Number of times I ran the gingerbread mold through the oven. I did it homemade style because I love to fail at things and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to fuck up. After all that work I kinda expected it to look a little better than this. I'm going with cardboard next year*.

429: Number of times I said "put the toilet seat DOWN when your brother is taking a bath!". Notice there is only one toy in the toilet. Could have been worse. Oh and yes....there's pee in it.

0: Number of times I felt sorry for Spidey....even though he has an eye lash curler taped to him and was repeatedly abused by the chitlinz while I sat in the kitchen and drank diet coke his life is still infinitely easier than mine. So, no pity.

6: Number of times I heard "Can we play with the cushions?" promptly followed by a faint voice pleading "I CAN'T BREATH!". Yep, there's a child under there. Not my favorite game.

5: Number of times I've allowed this little critter to eat chips for breakfast just to make him stop screeching "CAN I HAVE CHIPS FOR BREAKFAST? CAN I HAVE CHIPS FOR BREAKFAST? CAN I HAVE CHIPS FOR BREAKFAST?". Fuck, YES! HERE HAVE A CHIP FOR CHRIST'S SAKE. 

8: Number of times I closed my eyes and sprinted through the kitchen to the laundry room. What mess? I don't see any messes. I just ran into the kitchen table and vagina racked myself but I still don't see any messes. You crazy. Putting off cleaning this monstrosity was well worth the crotch injury.

1: Number of black eyes sustained (thus far...there's still time for more) while wrestling or "playing" or whatever the hell you call the sadistic dog pile action my boys engage in. You wanna book a playdate?

4: Number of back pats I gave myself for pulling this off. PS Jackassery aside, my kids are WAY cuter than yours. Admit it.

And that was our week. Still to come:
Turkey dinner- My second born was highly dismayed with the Hotel Thanksgiving buffet. He wants a turkey leg and he wants it NOW!
Christmas Cookies- I hear they make this tube cookie dough. Gonna check that out and leave the homemade thing to people who don't prefer crotch injuries to cleaning up a messy kitchen.
Church-..............hello? Still there? Yes, we are going to church Christmas Eve. If ya got a problem with that....bite me.

*Cardboard Gingerbread House idea props go to the one and only Jane Lively. Thanks Janey!!!