Ugh. I really think I'm about to lose it.
It's hard enough mothering the almost-2-year-old and the almost-4-year-old in the best of circumstances. But it's one million times worse when your house is on the market. We can't let them play in the house without constant, hawkish supervision because they like to lick their hands and put prints on the walls, or kick the walls (and in Sam's case, climb them), or spit on the carpets, or even better still, blow snot into them.
We thought it would be a great idea to just let them play on the screened in porch, but then they discovered the sliding glass door and some really fun news games, such as: "Viking Berserkers Using Their Bodies As Battering Rams Against The Door," "Let's Slam The Sliding Glass Door Repeatedly As Hard As We Can, Leaving Sticky, Unpenetrable Handprints Everywhere," and "Bring Dump Truck Loads of Dirt and Rocks And Leave Mountains On The Porch For Mommy To Clean," and when Mommy isn't quick enough, "Dump The Dogs' Water Dish On The Mountains And Make Landslides For Mommy."
I thought I had seen it all. But today, John decided to smear dog poop on the sliding glass door and finger paint in it.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen...Brittany's telling another poop story.
After that, Mommy got to play a game of her own called "Time Outs For Everybody!"
Oh please let our house sell soon so I can get that soundproofed basement with padded, disinfectable walls I've been dreaming of...