If you're reading this, you survived a day without my glorious blog. Congratulations, you get to move onto the next level!
I was incommunicado yesterday because I was being filmed for a scene in the Indy indie, Freight. It's a quaint, heart-warming story about four people who attempt suicide to escape their sordid existences. I do not portray one of the four, but rather a church-going woman implicated as having an affair with the pastor of my congregation. I don't wanna give away too much, but the pastor is actually doing my husband and so then the pastor attempts suicide to keep his naughty secret hidden. Oh wait...I've revealed too much, haven't I? Whatever...you weren't going to see it anyway...
So today I'm home and my husband left this morning for another business trip. Yippee! I get so accustomed to having his help tag-teaming with the kids, that when he leaves I sort of feel like I'm riding a feral rodeo bull naked and without a helmet. Remember in the movie Dumb & Dumber when Lloyd breaks out his "most annoying sound in the world"? Well, obviously the writer of that movie has never heard the resulting ear-splitting screech of a two-year-old girl being chased by her ten-year-old brother. I truly wish that my son understood the meaning of personal space, because clearly my desperate screams to "STOOOOOOOOOP!!!! STEP FIFTY FEET AWAY FROM YOUR SISTER BEFORE I KILL YOU!!!!" are not getting through to him. If you have any handy tips on how to accomplish this, please leave them in the comments section. Also, if you have any tips on how to explain to your bawling toddler that the shoes she is trying to fit on her chubby little feet are too small for her and aren't going to fit no matter how much you cry or how many times I try to "Hepp you! Pweese!", leave those too. Mommy is not the magic cobbler. If I were, I'd create some special shoes that would teleport me to the bar, because Mommy needs a cocktail.
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