They were running down the wide aisle of Target between home goods and groceries, screaming like banshees, when I turned to Jesse and said, “I don’t know why they’re so crazy today! I didn’t even give them cocaine.” (Note: I do not ever give my children illegal drugs. Please don’t call DCF.)

“SHHHHH,” he hissed at me. “Don’t say shit like that! They repeat everything!”

I cringed. He’s right. Which Emmett promptly demonstrated by screeching, “I REPEAT EVERYTHING! I’M A REPEATERRRRRRRRRR!” as he veered into the canned vegetable aisle.

These are not my kids. I wish mine were still small enough to strap into the cart. I wonder if shrink rays will be on Cartwheel next week... Photo credit: Surlygirl via CC.

These are not my kids. I wish mine were still small enough to strap into the cart. I wonder if shrink rays will be on Cartwheel next week… Photo credit: Surlygirl.

Which of course led to a conversation about how you can’t go where Mommy and Daddy can’t see you when we’re out places because someone could steal you. Which prompted the woman who overheard us from the other side of the store (not joking) to come over and chime in with some grandmotherly commentary (that I didn’t particularly want) to the children about how someone could steal them or us if they wander away from us, so stay with Mommy and Daddy.

So basically it was like every trip to Target with the kids where I go in with a specific list of things but it quickly gets so crazy that I fill my basket with random impulse buys and get home without actually purchasing anything I went there for in the first place. You know how it goes.

Later that day, I said something I can’t remember to Emmett (he was about an inch away from my face while I was peeing, so I think I have a good excuse for not remembering what exactly I said), to which he replied, “You shouldn’t say that because I’m a repeater and I repeat things.”

“What do you repeat?” I asked. I was still on the toilet, FYI, because he was blocking the toilet paper.

“What do you repeat?” he said.

“Do you repeat things?” I asked, praying that what I thought was happening was not actually happening.

“Do you repeat things?” he responded.

FML.

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The first word that came to mind when someone asked how my day was today was “relentless.” My day was relentless. From the moment the alarm went off in my freezing cold bedroom to right now, I have been counting down the moments for this day to end.

I could have predicted this, but I didn’t. Here are the signs it was coming:

I just finished my period. I’m always exhausted at the tail end of my period. Ugh.

The kids have been sick since last week. I’m sure I’m fighting it off myself — mercifully with some degree of success so far.

I’ve been woken up in the middle of the night every night since last week. See also “sick kids.” This is on the heels of my having run a marathon challenge a week ago and having been in Vegas for a conference the week before that — with zero recovery time.

The laundry still isn’t caught up from my being away. Extra laundry from work travel and extra laundry from people being sick plus all the extra laundry from doing four races in two days last weekend has added up to a big old pile of clothes I just do not want to look at.

I’m getting ready to go out of town. Yeah, again. This time for pleasure but still. I feel like I just unpacked. And I didn’t even put my clothes away yet because they’re somewhere in Mount Foldmore in my living room.

We’re all tired of being cooped up. It’s been a WEEK. Seriously, kids, can you like develop an immune system already? Jeez.

We realized the shower has been leaking. When we found mold in the carpet in the kids closet. So that was fun. Know what else is fun? Bare concrete in a closet and a house that reeks of bleach from killing said mold.

Basically any time I’m at the intersection of not-enough-sleep and a-to-do-list-that-just-keeps-growing, my days start to feel endless and I just want to crawl into bed with a hot cup of tea and zone out until my brain turns off and I can sleep.

So that’s the plan right now. And I’m hoping tomorrow feels a little less relentless so I can breathe.

How do you come back from those relentless days? What operates your reset button? I’d love to hear your tips. Leave a comment.

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You know that thing where kids just say adorable stuff all the time? Yeah. Mine don’t do that. They say funny things, sure. But mostly they just hurt my feelings. For instance, by following me into the bathroom despite my protests that I want to pee alone, and then adding insult to injury by telling me, “Mommy, your butt is squishy. Also your tummy.” Thanks, jerk.

I swear Emmett thought he was paying me a big compliment when he told me I had big feet. He was trying on my shoes, very impressed with how grown up I am. And as the words, “Wow, mommy, your feet are so big!” are coming out of his mouth, I’m thinking to myself, “Aww, childlike wonder. How precious.” And then he follows it up with, “Just like your nose.” And I’m like, “ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?”

It doesn’t seem to matter how many times we remind them not to make personal remarks. It never really sinks in. I do recall my brother (sorry, bro!) doing this well into later elementary school. Things like, “MOMMY! WHY IS THAT MAN SO FAT?” in the checkout line at Shop Rite. We had an incident in the men’s locker room (to be clear: I heard about it over dinner later that day) when Miles asked why a man had such a big tummy.

“Did you tell him he had a big tummy too?” I asked Emmett?

“No,” he said, very seriously. “I told him boys have nipples and girls have nipples.”

Insert facepalm hashtag here.

So I guess I need to just buckle up and hope people have a sense of humor, bad hearing, or both. Don’t mind me as I cringe quietly. I answer every question and remark about other people with, “People come in all different shapes, sizes, and colors. Hey! Look! Candy!”

What’s the most mortifying thing your kids have said in public? Or at least, the most mortifying thing they’ve said this week? Leave a comment.

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eYLRmQXm068IbyxkFjRPjjt5F7xynnPvLUlEZLS0g0gTesticular cancer is a topic I don’t particularly want to think about. Losing my husband to anything but especially to cancer is one of my greatest fears. Pretending these things don’t happen isn’t going to keep them from happening, but awareness can help us find them early when we can still do something about it. So, let’s talk about testicular cancer. Did you know…

  • One male is diagnosed with testicular cancer every hour?

  • It is the most easily detected form of cancer?

  • It has the highest survival rate when caught early?

November is Men’s Health Month. Even though it’s almost over, there’s still time to talk about keeping Dad healthy all year round. One of the best ways to do that is to encourage him to do monthly testicular self-exams. Yes, you heard me right. We ladies need to feel up the girls monthly, and the guys need to check out the boys once a month. Let’s face it — they’re down there all the time anyway, right? So tell them how to make all that scratching and “adjusting” productive. continue reading >>>

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Accidentally Exactly Right — Why I Drove a Stranger Home from the ER

by Kristen King

Last week Emmett busted his head open in some mysterious incident that occurred in the dark in the boys’ room after bedtime while he was inexplicably on Miles’ bed but they “weren’t playing,” “weren’t fighting,” and “weren’t messing around.” They were able to glue it successfully at the pediatric ER at Oak Hill Hospital, and […]

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