It feels like a nonstop commercial for Baby Brewing around here, doesn’t it? Well, it is. Because if I don’t make enough money to get a babysitter soon so I can get away from this DAMN KIDS for at least an hour, I will lose my mind. Lose. My. Mind.
Screen printing? Not easy, people. Probably easy if you have all the equipment, as opposed to me, who is curing emulsion on screens in the sunlight out back. In my heavily wooded yard. Even without leaves, I’m running around like a lunatic, trying to find some direct sunlight. Thank God during the winter we have so many hours of overhead light. Like 7 minutes. I’ll bet no one is curing emulsion in the sunlight in Finland this time of year.
We have a temporary (?) houseguest. She is a lovely girl who will be helping out at the school starting next week and she was temporarily homeless. Did I mention she was a nice girl? In a, holy crap, now we can’t run Dora on Tivo loop anymore. Nice girl in a, I’m really gonna miss the F-word kinda way.
This weekend has gone this way…
The Boy gets paint all over the living room. Origin of paint unknown.
The Boy cuts another hole in his pants to make peeing easier. Because it is so difficult already.
The Boy knocks over three screens filled with ink onto the floor. That ink that never dries and sticks to everything.
The Boy commences jumping from the banister on the landing down to the couch. Relatively uneventful.
The Boy runs over his brother with his car.
The Boy rolls his brother over in the tunnel.
The Boy attempts to ride The Dog through the house.
The Boy has an “incident” in the bathroom involving pee. If only the wall was the toilet bowl.
The Boy stands beside me as I print shirts, incessantly asking, “Is that for me? Is that my size? Is that for me?”
The Boy climbs onto my lap and proceeds to dump half of his bowl of cereal on my lap.
The Boy drives his truck through paint of unknown origin, leaving tracks throughout the house.
The Boy steals The Baby’s food.
The houseguest is a lovely girl in a, too bad I can’t pour myself a White Russian, aka Mommy’s Chocolate Milk, at 2 in the afternoon.
It’s for the beer crowd. You know who you are.