How do truckers wives do this? Or salesmens wives? I have been a pseudo single parent for three days and it is killin me. Jay wouldnt even be home yet, but the sheer thought that he might not be home tonight cuts me deep, man. I have a mind to call the Fire Chief of TO myself and tell him to lay off the nonsense. Why do they need a fire boat in such a hurry anyways?

Arg. Lucy is half crying downstairs for no good reason. Sammy is banging things around his room in protest of having to clean it instead of roller blading. Then he has the nerve to come and ask me, cajole me, implore me, inSIST on having a friend in to play ps2. Hah! Not bloody likely.

I meant to take them out to get shoes right now, but somehow time got away from me. And here I sit, taking a precious five minutes to blog. How dare I? There are dishes in the sink. How could I? There is laundry in the dryer (for three days now). Why do I think I can? When I havent given a thought to supper.

Because, my friends. Because it is my perogative. Because someday I want to remember how crazy it was to have three small kids, not like my mom, who, having had four kids in five years, gets this blank look on her face when I ask her how she did it. I want to be able to remember all the gory little details, not just say, "Ummm, I drank a lot of Diet Coke. And you kids were very nice, most of the time."

Or maybe it will be agony to look back with clear vision. Maybe I am supposed to forget and forgive. I don't know. I do know that I better go, Lucy ain't gettin any quieter and Monty is too quiet.

Maybe tomorrow I will actually have a subject to post about. If anyone reading this has a yen for a certain subject to be discussed, please pop it into the comments! I usually have something to say about most things, intelligent or not.

Later.