Here are your rose colored glasses dear...
It's always an interesting day when I read 7's blog and see how the world is for him. Most of the time I want to jump right over to my blog and do a rebuttal rant, but for the sake of his public and personal ego, I refrain. I know quite a few of his fans have an image of him in their minds that is far from my everyday reality and it just wouldn't be fair of me to ruin that, ya know? But today... today I have a bone to pick with Numerical Boy.
So he blogs about us moving into our apartment (our little house as Oliver calls it) and talks about how tired he. He says he loaded and unloaded the UHAUL. He credits me with changing diapers. HELLO?!?!?! I changed diapers? I didn't even have the kids that day because I was busy packing, loading, unloading, organizing, directing the other guys helping us, and keeping them all from either playing hackeysack or wrestling and body slamming each other on the ramp of the truck. I most certainly was not changing diapers. I don't know whose move he was helping with but it wasn't the same one I was working.
He also got to stop the moving process come Monday morning to go to work. I've been at it all week and I'm losing my mind. I had to look for 45 minutes today just to find the knife block after I dropped the knives on my foot. Luckily they are crap knives and pretty dull. Breakfast has been taking at least 30 minutes to get together for the kids each morning due to the constant reshuffling of boxes. I don't want to put anything in the cabinets there because the last people were pigs and I'm still cleaning the oh-so-hygienic particle board shelves. I've got a long list of unhappy things about this apartment, but it is somewhere we can call our own. I have a bedroom. I have a livingroom. I have my own kitchen again. YEAH.
I've left the kids with 7 for long enough. I hear screaming and wailing coming from the front room.
It's always an interesting day when I read 7's blog and see how the world is for him. Most of the time I want to jump right over to my blog and do a rebuttal rant, but for the sake of his public and personal ego, I refrain. I know quite a few of his fans have an image of him in their minds that is far from my everyday reality and it just wouldn't be fair of me to ruin that, ya know? But today... today I have a bone to pick with Numerical Boy.
So he blogs about us moving into our apartment (our little house as Oliver calls it) and talks about how tired he. He says he loaded and unloaded the UHAUL. He credits me with changing diapers. HELLO?!?!?! I changed diapers? I didn't even have the kids that day because I was busy packing, loading, unloading, organizing, directing the other guys helping us, and keeping them all from either playing hackeysack or wrestling and body slamming each other on the ramp of the truck. I most certainly was not changing diapers. I don't know whose move he was helping with but it wasn't the same one I was working.
He also got to stop the moving process come Monday morning to go to work. I've been at it all week and I'm losing my mind. I had to look for 45 minutes today just to find the knife block after I dropped the knives on my foot. Luckily they are crap knives and pretty dull. Breakfast has been taking at least 30 minutes to get together for the kids each morning due to the constant reshuffling of boxes. I don't want to put anything in the cabinets there because the last people were pigs and I'm still cleaning the oh-so-hygienic particle board shelves. I've got a long list of unhappy things about this apartment, but it is somewhere we can call our own. I have a bedroom. I have a livingroom. I have my own kitchen again. YEAH.
I've left the kids with 7 for long enough. I hear screaming and wailing coming from the front room.
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