Let me just rearrange your face.

If you could use just one word to describe your day(s), what would it be? I have so many that come to mind, but none of them are really adequate unless you toss a four letter word in the front. Being I try not to do that here, those of you at home can add your favorite foul word in front of *eventful*.

The number of times I’ve said “What the…” to myself in the last five days, is countless.

-Children stealing from other random people in the house. CHECK

-Child AWOL. CHECK

-Child AWOL – round two. CHECK

-Child AWOL – round three. CHECK

-Located Pot cartridge hidden someplace #8,652. CHECK

-A bunch of other miscellaneous stupid things. CHECK

-Screaming at the bus stop. CHECK.

-Lost phone in the yard. CHECK.

-Vape tossed into traffic. CHECK

-Full on girl fight. CHECK

Told you I needed four letter words. There are days where I can picture myself sitting in front of the fireplace with a glass of wine, decompressing. Then I remember that I don’t drink, reach for my nighttime hot theraflu, and drift to an antihistamine induced slumber. Yes, I know everyone thinks Theraflu is gross. No, I don’t care. The only way to be sure anything edible survives in the house for more than five minutes for me to ever get to is to eat things that gross out other people. Eventually, you learn to like it. #momlifehacks

As for the AWOL adventure, Daytime Emmy Nominee has an amazing fight or flight response. Like, completely off the charts. So, she’s either punching something or running away from the situation. No real in between. She’s had some impulse control issues that the others in the house don’t appreciate. I don’t blame them. I’ve also been a victim of it, I just handle it differently, because well, adulting. She was confronted about her behaviors, was overwhelmed and angry and took off. Thankfully, I only had to call the police and the on call emergency line once. I try to avoid police visits at pretty much all costs. I’ve got a little PTSD when Police show up at the house. I try to spare my mental health when I can. This time around, it could not be helped. Daytime Emmy Nominee has a preselected “run to” location. She doesn’t use it successfully. Of course her worker will come out to remind her she has a safety plan that covers that. You know, because she’s really concerned about that safety plan.

As for the fighting, it was a lot like a scene out of the movie 8 Mile. I could almost hear the vocal stylings of Eminem to go along with the, “You don’t know where I come from, b—-!” and the “Come on. I’ll kill you. Let’s go!” Ugh. Because I’m stupid, or gutsy, I toss myself in the middle and attempt to restrain the smallest prize fighter before the punches and hair pulling start. It was unpleasant to say the least. It was however touching to hear, “Don’t you dare hit my mom!” out of OG Drama. Awe, how sweet, not helping reduce the flames any, but, a nice sentiment in the moment.

In other news… I’m looking for a new massage therapist. Anyone?