Darth Sara

I just finished a "not so nice on my end phone call" with my significant other. As is our life, he is working hard in the potato state, while i labor alone in motherdom here in the state of trendy designer jeans and blinged out jogging suits, but that is another post. I feel bad because I answered the phone in my "Darth Sara" mode, and just complained about my day....
Tade cried ALL day
I gained five pounds
I'm tired
The kids won't go to bed
There's stacks of homework to be done
The house won't stay clean
I need money
Tade had three poopy diapers
darn that xbox
Tade wants my nah nah's
I don't want to fix dinner tonight
I'm tired
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Not even an unusually bad day by any terms, but for some reason I just had to be negative and vent to him.
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oh, and just as I'm writing this, my angel neighbors who collect my mail and put out my garbage, just brought over heavenly chocolate chip cookies...
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i'm a loser.
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I'd like to publicly thank my husbandness for listening patiently to me whine on the phone while he apologetically, and sincerely said he was sorry for the situation we're in. He sat and lovingly listened while I rambled off my stresses and gently comforted me. I am sorry Papa Bear.
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Let me paint a picture for your bedtime dreams tonight dear lover... Let's just imagine that I was in a really cheerful mood. Let's imagine that the house is sparkling, I am smiling and not scowling, the kids are obeying and being repectful, and I look like her right now...

thanks for the cookies willsons...
i feel better already.
the five pounds will have to weight...
i mean wait.