Sometimes having all boys is very difficult. Hard. Even borderline torture.
Like when I'm standing at my kitchen sink trying to scrub worms out of my Ninja's blades. OR like when I'm trying to rid my house of the nasty aroma of SIX stinky teenagers mixed with sardines, worms, ranch dressing, hot sauce and hamster food all mixed together in my Ninja for the sake of a dare.
I read back a bit on this blog early this morning when I woke up. I went back to the year 2008 when my boys were 7,9 and 11. They were less stinky then, and their inventiveness was much different than it is today. In fact, their "creations" were quite edible and found in cute little cookbooks found at Barnes & Noble.
I guess someday I will read back to this post too. I will smile. I will probably giggle a bit too at the memories of watching (and listening) them chase each other down the street with a frightening concoction made of things that should NEVER be mixed together, let alone ingested.
Today, all I have is this...
I don't have Facebook, but if I did, my status would go something like this:
"Exhausted by teen-aged boys. Desperately seeking quiet time out with my man."
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