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snow watch 2007: running on empty

snow watch 2007: running on empty

February 14, 2007

Time: 8:01 pm

I should be making my children brush their teeth and go to bed. Instead I am sitting on the couch typing.

I am exhausted from all this typing. And the ideas have run dry.

I know I have hit rock bottom when I think, “Hey, I’ll blog what I had for dinner!” Which, since No one cares what you had for lunch, I am sure no one cares about dinner either. Truth be told, I don’t really even care. (Hamburgers, french fries, and onion rings. Followed by cupcakes for dessert.)

Now I am going to go put my children to bed. Rob and I play a game of chicken over bedtime every night he is home, each of us waiting for the other to make the first move and put the kids to bed. I always lose. Because at 8:01 I have exhausted my entire reserve of patience. And I DO NOT WANT TO PRETEND TO BE A UNICORN WHO FLIES AROUND THE HOUSE SINGING, thankyouverymuch. Even if the song is, “It’s just like, it’s just like, it’s just like….”

Posted by Chris @ 9:23 pm  

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Comments

  1. kate says:

    good luck getting them all in bed!

  2. Danielle says:

    I always lose that game as well.

  3. Jackie says:

    We play that game often. Alot of times I win, but only after tons of whining to my husband, “they HAVE to get to bed!!!”. I think he just gets tired of listening to ME.

  4. Melissa R. Garrett says:

    LOL! This is the first time I’ve been to visit your site, and I absolutely LOVE it!!

    My husband and I play this game with our three kids (I can’t imagine seven - egads!). He often deliberately provokes our five-year-old son into such a fit of anger that Jacob will refuse anything to do with his dad. Of course he then clings to me and whines until I have read him no less than three Thomas the Tank Engine stories and tickled his back for no less than ten minutes. And of course since I am still nursing my youngest, every night is my night to put her to bed. Thank goodness my seven-year-old daughter is now old enough to read me stories. Ah . . . close my eyes and relax! Shame on those husbands.