I am finding it even more difficult than normal to get a post cranked out with all this damn school writing I've been doing. I secretly love it though, even if I do over-think it and stress myself out to the point that my eye twitches for days on end.
I am able to tweet random stuff on the daily (140 words is so much less daunting), so find me there @sassysthrnmama .
Our sweet loveable Giant Schnauzer, Sophie, really hates being confined. To her (HUGE!!) kennel, the house, the backyard... Basically, if she can't go wherever the hell she wants, she gets all pissed off. Lately she has somehow manhandled the back gate until she can squeeze her giant body through the tiny opening in between the house and the gate. (Body of a rat, I swear.) I came home from the gym today to find her sitting on the front porch, just waiting on her people to get home. Now I can appreciate the awesomeness that is a dog who will come home... But we have these asshole neighbors who really want Sophie. As in, they have asked if they could buy her, I have found her (locked!) in their backyard on the occasion when she has gotten out before... I got all Mama Bear on them, and while I don't think they would dare take her... Well they're obviously assholes, so who knows. I don't want to have to go all Memphis on these people should I find my dog locked in their yard (or house) again. Does anyone have any experience with an electric fence? I don't want to go there, but I literally cannot keep her contained.
My attempt at getting back on the Paleo wagon was a big fat fail. Let's just face it. I LIKE BREAD, OKAY?! And to be honest, I'm sure everyone else likes me much more when I'm "on bread", too. Take away my baby bagels and I pretty much hate everyone and everything. It's all about world peace, one carbaholic at a time.
The baby fever is at an all time high. All you people popping out your 50 Shades of Grey babies and what-not are doing a number on my ovaries. Not that I am in any way, shape, or form ready for another bambino, OMG, the baby snuggles are just killing me. Instagram pics of your precious chunksters in their jammies with big, gummy grins? Dead.
This house is getting far too small for all of us. We moved in with The Nana when Stells was a baby, and it has been (mostly) mutually beneficial for all of us. However, coming home to a kitchen with a mayonnaise knife stuck to the counter, clothes piled up in the bathroom so bad you can barely get in there to pee, and having your au-thor-i-ty undermined constantly? Well. I think it's time to put this little chapter to rest. Hoping to do some apartment hunting over the summer. Really hope to find somewhere I can keep the kiddos in their school because OH MAN, we love it there. Plus, I went to the same school with the same people for all six years of elementary, and those were some of the most fun memories! I will hate it if I have to uproot them and change schools. (See also: Mama needs a part time job.)
Oh, and just for shits and giggles- our neighbors who essentially have a Hank Williams Jr. concert in their driveway 5/7 nights a week? Well, apparently the wife (girlfriend? baby mama?) moved out, so it is now a 24/7 bachelor pad. Fun. At least he changed out his LOUD! RAGGEDY! pickup for a LESS RAGGEDY! Cadillac sedan. Wtf is going on here, I mean really.