My children have taken a page out of their father's books and delight in making my blood boil. For some reason, they think that my twitching is humorous. They are incredibly disrespectful and hateful to each other. I have made them sit and hold hands, write letters to each other, apologize face to face, hug, tell each other 5 nice things about the other, everything I can think of. And within 5 minutes, they are smirking, making some snide comment, 'accidentally' bumping into one another or doing something else to piss the other off. All 5 of them are just as guilty as the others. I was raised as an only child and maybe that is why I don't understand the delight in torturing a sibling. I swear they get it from Mikey.
I need to get the kids' pictures taken, I am so slacking. I was just looking at all the framed pictures I have sitting above my desk, they have changed sooo much. But not at all. It is weird, I can look at a picture of Chick at 6 months and totally see how she got to where she is now but for the life of me, I couldn't begin to imagine what she would look like. I look at the baby pictures of Bubba and I can see that ornery little glint in his eye even then. I love pictures and wish I had the drive to scrapbook them as wonderfully as Whimp, Karen and my mom does. I have tried, just don't have the creative drive for that. I would rather think up a pattern and make a quilt or stocking. Yet another siiiiigggghhhhhh goes here.
It is snowing/raining/windy out, really yucky. Can you tell from my mood?
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