In the past two days, all within the freshly painted stench of Josh's 1/2 way painted room, I have changed a light bulb 4 times, thrown one newly broken lamp into the trash, and treated one top of the foot 1st degree light bulb burn. Currently there are 6 paint bottomed socks our home, one navy blue paint stained pillow case, and don't ever think you'll see the shirt and sweats I have been wearing the past three days.
The kids have a serious block regarding the whole "Wipe the brush so it doesn't drip" method of painting I am trying to get them to employ. They are more of the drip all over everything including the finished walls method, which causes me agita. I think this will be more of a Mom effort and less of a group effort for how ever long it takes me to finish. I gave the navy another chance at coverage today, and it looks like I am going to have to get creative around the less than perfect coverage. I hope I am up to it.
As far as Jackie is concerned, she has me raising the white flag here. I give up, she can have whatever she wants if only she would just go away. She isn't going down easy, and her niggling pointy pain has me completely worn out. Seriously, every time anyone asks about her, I just cry from the utter frustration of it all. Mostly, I have been popping Advil (At least I am not double dosing the Alleve anymore) and trying to keep my focus on other things, just trying not to remind myself how tired I am from the not sleeping well and how irritable I become every time the last dose of painkiler starts to wear off. I am even starting to fall out of love with the herbal heating pad. I just want to not think about my jaw. I vaguely remember being blissfully oblivious about my jaw, and I liked it that way.
I took the kids into the city to see grandma today. Grandma wasn't doing well, so we spent a couple of hours in her apartment with her before we went down to the playground with out her for a quick run around before getting back into the car. As we walked into the playground Matt and I passed two young boys attempting to retrieve their ball from a mucky puddle of questionable origin. I leaned over and whispered to the boys that they should wash their hands. I walked on, but Matt didn't. He kept talking to the boys and when he caught up to me he said "I tried to be helpful, but not too helpful, since I didn't want those kids to run up to their mothers shouting "Mommy, some nice man helped us wash our balls!"
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