Ang, in her quest to land a teaching job by this fall, spent the majority of the day running here and there trying to get everything she needs while I spent the day watching Frick and his ever present running buddy Frack.
Don't get me wrong; this is a good thing. After 6 years of one income taking care of a family of five I'm ready for some relief. Especially considering I make my living off of commission.
But after Trot pooped in his pants (no diaper), poured a Danimal out all over the bar AND the kitchen floor, 2+ hours of playing outside where my allergies were screaming "NOOOOOO!" followed by helping coach Rakes soccer practice tonight (have you ever tried to get 11 5 year old kids to all listen at the same time?) I was pretty sure I was in Stage 5 of the famous Popeye disease of "I've had all I can stand and I can't stands no more".
Until I went to say prayers with Rakes and he wrapped his arms around my neck, said "I love you, Dad" and wouldn't let go for the next 5 minutes.
Stinking kids; just when I think I'm out?
They pull me back in.
Of course he got out of bed 3 minutes later, which got Trot out of bed about .2 seconds after that so I had to threaten both of them with bodily harm and a week without the Play Station.
But it was a sweet moment while it lasted.
Only 73 more days until I fly to New England for the Megapalooza.
It's 50/50 odds I stroke out before then.
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