I Think My Days Are Numbered...

..for I believe my little darlings are trying to do me in. You dress 'em, feed 'em, spend a crapload of money on toys they never play with, and this is how they repay you?

Let's go back to last night for a moment. It was about 7 pm. It was December 5th. In Green Bay. So, it could have been considered a wee bit frigid outside. Me, being the epitome of intellegence and sensibility that I am, decided to run outside in no jacket to get the mail. I sprinted to the mailbox and back, only to discover that Tate had locked the screen door and was standing right inside, cackling merrily at poor Mommy out in the Arctic tundra. This is what happened next:

Me: "Tate, honey, unlock the door! Mommy's cold!"

Tate tries to unlock the door and for some reason keeps turning the latch the wrong way. Never mind that he's locked us out of the house countless times before and has always been successful at allowing us entry back in, this time apparently he had no brain.

Me: "Tate! Seriously! I'm freezing my nips off! Let me in!"

Tate: "ARRRRGH!" while trying frantically to unlock the door by turning the latch further in the lock position

Me: "Oh, my God, I do believe I'm going to die out here"

Tate: "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!! AH! AH AH!" This is him screaming bloody murder as he completely gives up on the lock altogether, runs into the den hysterically and throws himself down on the floor. The kid was fuh-reaking out. This was not helping my situation any.

Then I realized that my house has two alternate doors to get in. Yes, I've lived in the house for 2 1/2 years. Yes, it took me a good 5 minutes to realize this. I went over to the side door, and went through the garage back into the house. Well, apparently, during the 20 seconds it took me to do this, Tate seemed to think that I had gotten eaten by a snowbank and went in to full-fledged hysteria. I don't know how Nora didn't wake up. He was making noises like he was getting eaten by a gorilla or something.

So, Tate tried to freeze me to death. Nora just decided to ram her head into my nose as hard as she could. The side of my nose that has the nose ring in it. You ever have a little metal rod practically pierce the middle wall of your nose? I almost had a hole straight through to the other nostril. I could have done that thing where you put a hoop through it and look like a bull. I could have totally pulled that off, by the way.

And my house is trying to kill me by burying me in clutter. It's neverending. I picked up the family around 9 am today. I took this picture around 10:30 am.

And this isn't even bad! That's barely messy! But my point is, my house repels neatness. It shuns it, alienates it.

And this is what was outside my window:

You can't tell, but it's snowing as I took the picture. Eric was at work all day, so I was stuck inside my messy house while we were in the middle of a freaking snow monsoon. It was a rather long day.

I'd like to close with a shot of my little rapscallions. Don't be fooled by the innocent faces. Who knows what's lurking underneath?

Where am I? Whose lap is this??