Is it “an exclusive” that my hair inflates 3.25 additional inches every morning as I load the kids into the car, leaving me looking like this for the rest of the day?
That's me in the middle.
Is it a “developing story” that my bras are stuck to me like Gorilla Glue by the time I get home every night? That I rip them off and throw them as far away from as I can only to have the kids bring them back to me, damp and limp, saying “Mommy shirt back ON!” ?
Has no one else experienced the feeling of sweat rolling down the middle of your back as you change a ginormous poopy diaper, forcing you to choose between keeping your toddlers legs out of the muck, or swiping away that beetle crawling on my skin feeling?
Who hasn’t had the joy of finding, but not until FINALLY hitting that ladies room at 11am, after attending two meetings with other people who made eye contact with me, that their eyeliner melted into a rather Alice Cooper-esque design, sometime on the way into work this morning?
Am I really the only person who thinks that popsicles and corn flakes would make a fabulous dinner tonite?
This officially kicks off my annual “enough with the summer” campaign. Unless I can enjoy it on a beach chair with a cold seltzer, its all just a big A/C bill and sweaty feet to me now.
Bring on the pumpkins.