My friend Wendy demanded I write something since I haven’t been blogging on her time schedule  (which is wretchedly demanding, and if we lived closer to each other I fear she would show up at my house at 3 am and smack me repeatedly in the left eye until I did her bidding.)

But I got nothing.

NOTHING.

Ok, well,  I WAS sick for the last week and a half with lungs that sounded gross enough for the doctor to drop his stethoscope and scream: “OH MY LORD JESUS DO THOSE THINGS SOUND WET! PREDNISONE AND ANTIBIOTICS STAT!” then he ran to another room weeping and washed his hands until they bled.

So there was that.

I have attempted to knit something for my mom for Christmas and since she might read this, I can’t tell you what it is, but I have ripped it out 5,467 times. She’s going to get this though, even if I have to buy it on Etsy and pretend I made it. (Love you, Mommy)

So there’s that.

Every time I pick up my twins from preschool, Twin A yells: “I DIDN’T SAY ANY BAD WORDS TODAY!” which is good because I have irresponsibly allowed him to listen to music that he shouldn’t, but Epic Rap Battles of History are hysterical. See what I mean watching Rick Grimes vs. Walter White:

Twin B woke me up out of a dead sleep this morning (dead because I took a bunch of Benedryl) at 5 am because he was soaked in pee. So soaked I could have wrung out his little Captain America Pajamas and created a one gallon tank for any peefish that might come along. I stripped him in my haze of antihistamine and then he started freaking out because Mr. Who refused to allow Pee-Blankie in bed with us. So I had to search through a clothes hamper for some dry clothes to put on his wet, pee laced skin, then he, of course, takes over most of the California King.

His feet were so cold, ice will now worship him and call him King. I think he might have stuck his big ice toe in my ear at some point, but again…Benedryl.

And that.

My oldest, Teen Who, is looking at colleges this week. It depresses and excites me at the same time. Hopefully he will do his homework and I won’t have to pull him out of school by his ear in front of all his friends.

So, I guess if you count possible pneumonia, knotty knitting, bad words, pee kids, and college bound kids, I have some stuff going on.

Crossing fingers for no Ebola.

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