Yesterday, DFW was hit with a dozen tornadoes. I am so not exaggerating. I spent two hours in the small bathroom surrounded by toys, snacks, pillows and blankets with my three kids.
|Going to the mattresses means something different in Texas.|
That was two hours of telling the kids that NO we can't go watch Mickey and please sit down and how about we watch something on Mama's computer and PLEASE STOP KICKING EACH OTHER.
After about 30 minutes, I was ready for the tornado to take us. Praise God for wireless internet, laptops and You Tube.
Today we're all cranky and discombobulated. We can't go outside to hit their reset buttons. It's way too muddy and there are ants everywhere. Sophie took one look and said "No. Icky." Gideon headed straight for the biggest puddle of mud he could find until I yanked him back.
My head is killing me. Snot from Mars is trying to suffocate me along with the Texas pollen that was kicked up yesterday.
Milly isn't happy unless she is hunting down another basket of toys to upend and scatter to the four winds. Actually, all of the kids just want the toys spread in a fine layer on the living room floor. They don't really want to play with them. I guess they just want to see every single one.
If I step on that stupid giraffe Little People toy again then it's going to the moon.
I feel terrible complaining when we have it so easy. People lost homes, cars and were severely injured yesterday. My family is safe. The house is fine.
I just don't feel good and the kids are running me ragged. Sorry for the whine.