I spend way too much.

I know this. M knows this. So why the desire to change me? I work full time and we (for the sake of not getting divorce in record time) keep our finances separate. It never fails though as i am sucked into the super Wally Mart for a few simple items i leave with a cart and a half worth of things because well i wanted them and my boys indicated a passing desire as well. I swear D’s interest in toys is equivalent to a gnat’s life span. J’s, however, it infinitely longer. Especially if it was either intended for D or involves an animal in any way. This is why he carried around a box of Always with wings around the entire store. I was unaware of how enthralling that stupid dove like symbol could be. In any case, i love buying things for the boys and i am aware that we are not made of money and that yes we do not have access to a money tree. I just can’t help it. Just like i cannot help that i stock our pantry like we are about to be in the middle of a grocery store strike and will be unable to purchase food at all for the next 6 months. It is really not my fault that the pantry shelves scream mercy everytime they see me coming from the store. I believe that all homes need 12 cans of chopped tomatoes even though i am the only one that eats them. Not to mention 4 bags of 8-cup capacity shredded cheese.

It has been very warm here lately and this has caused both boys to go into hyper-active drive. The need to go outside is immediate. The minute that they wake up they are at the door trying to pick the lock like pros and go out to freedom. Once out there, however, the task is left to mommy to decide what fun things can we do? I believe that once they step through the door all imaginative powers are sucked from their heads and any ideas they had are gone as they stare in a stupor at me for direction. “Look boys it is 6:30 in the morning, i am in my pajamas, it is not warm out yet and i have no clue what you want to do. How about we all go in and watch the Wiggles?” And back in we march until it is warm enough out to warrant mommy getting dressed. I might even brush my hair.


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