I wouldn't stand right there if I were you . . .

Sometimes I even feel a little bad when I elbow my two year old out of the way to get to my coffee. Most times not.

On a more serious note, I am trying to figure out the most cost-effective solution for our computer woes, and in the meantime, my posts will probably be short and sweet. Er, as sweet as you will get out of me. . . more like short and Splenda. Trying to write my usual eloquent and enlightening posts is beyond me in the small snippets of time Todd allows me on his computer. He says he needs it for work or something, and I'm like, "Whatever, get off Facebook!"

[Dogwood Girl is startled by noise at door, turns around to frantically type a last few letters.]

He's coming! I must go! dkjaosodiyhvsozhinlkknaklsmed [gurgling, choking, wet bloody sound, then a loud thud.]

Command: Logout

Resolution Broken

One thing that I don't like about having kids is that even on Saturday morning, I sometimes only drink about half a cup of coffee before having to do something like mop the whole kitchen after the kids dump their milk all over the floor for fun. This of course happened while I was in the bathroom for all of about one minute. Look in kitchen and it's perfectly clean. Go in bathroom for a minute, and come out to hear that "not good" silence that all parents dread. Walk into kitchen to find Tiller sitting at the table eating, surrounded by milk everywhere: Covering the table, in both chairs, all over the floor in an approximately 10X10 foot space. Rollie is nowhere to be found, but I finally locate him hiding inside the pantry doors, a sure sign of guilt if I have ever seen one. He proceeds to blame Tiller for the whole thing, and like a good little sheep, when asked about it, she says yes, she did it.

riiiiigght.

Spent the next 30 minutes cleaning the milk up, then mopping, all the while breaking one of my New Year's Resolutions, the one about raising my voice to the children.