I am an island surrounded by phrases like "Ian is hurting me" and "umph" (this is what Ian says when I tell him he shouldn't do something) and "it was an accident". In the last week or so I've been smacked with a rope (by Ian) and my foot has been stepped on (by Ian's shoe). Sometimes as soon as I leave a room where the kids are playing or getting dressed, someone starts crying (usually because Ian hit them). I sigh, roll my eyes, and turn around to go yell a little bit. Then, I feel bad for yelling, then 15 min later I do it again. I try to tell myself there are women before me who have had it much worse, but sometimes it doesn't help. So I go eat some chocolate. And I feel better for a little bit. Then, I run out of junk food and I don't want to take kids to the store so I snack on marshmellows. Gross. This and my baby weight compels me to go running (I had this idea that I would be skinny when Brad came back, ha, ha). Luckily, if I can get the kids all in bed by 8:30 (average twice a week with soccer now) I can go running.
So, two more days until Brad comes for the weekend. I am counting down. At the same time, I'm thinking, then four more weeks of this! Yes, we are crazy.









We're sad to be without Brad, but we are glad to be home and ready to pack up to be with him again!