get her a banana. stat.

I basically had the worst Monday to take place on a Tuesday, ever. (It is Tuesday, right?) Seriously. Terrible. I spent my day cleaning up a monster mess. Thankfully I’m not a really emotional person, but I will for sure be venting about my day to the Barbie Lawyer tomorrow during my endless car ride to Florida. She will tell me how crazy I am, bully me a little bit, and I’ll feel better. For right now, I don’t have the words, so I am thankful that there was only one meltdown today, and my day ended in laughter. I’m often not that lucky. 

Sassy Britches, who is basically the teenage version of a slug, gave herself a cramp getting out of bed. Yes, you read that right. The girl loves to lounge/relax. I’ll admit that from time to time I am jealous. I’m also often wondering how she manages to avoid bed sores. Anyway, she hurt herself getting up and yells out that she has a cramp. While I stand there stunned that I’m actually witnessing this, Daytime Emmy Nominee blurts out, in all seriousness with the most urgent and concerned tone ever, “Someone get her a banana!”  Funny and impressive all at the same time. I needed that. Daytime Emmy Nominee is also the same girl that told me to be careful eating a raw potato last week because they are poisonous in Minecraft. 

Hubby and I are headed to Florida tomorrow, via vehicle. While I’m thrilled to be spending that time with him, I dislike car rides. I also dislike Hubby’s driving. Also not a big fan of towing a trailer. This sounds more and more appealing as I write about it. Focusing on the quality time, I’ve also packed my loop ear plugs and Dramamine. 

I’ve been telling Mr. Gatsby for some time about this trip. I again relayed to him that he is posing as the responsible adult in charge. The reality of all this just set in this evening. His first question:

How will we eat? 

Followed by, 

How many children am I watching? 

And lastly, 

How do you keep track of them all?

Yup. I feel a lot better about leaving now. I’ve prepared meals for the time that I’m gone. They won’t starve at least. Beyond that, I’m hoping three young adults, one almost adult, and one teenager, can handle things without me. Mr. Gatsby is already setting up his “government” as I type. I suspect Uma is his Vice President. Sassy Britches has already tried to pull a curfew fast one on him and I’m not even out of the house yet. 

I have begged Daytime Emmy Nominee to please not doing anything dumb on this trip. I also begged her to leave any vaping paraphernalia at home. Fingers crossed.