Don't say anything at all.

You know how the sayings go...

"Never say never"
"If you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all"
"If you think you are having a bad day...someone is always having a worse one."

Yeah, I have now remembered them all pretty well.

It all started last week. Josh headed out to New York for work.

New York is on my bucket list. (I have never actually written down my list because for some weird reason in my head, I don't want to feel bad about the things I DIDN'T get to do but be grateful for all of the things I DID do...plus not having everything crossed off at the end would drive me insane. Thank you OCD.)

So was I sad that I wasn't going? Yes. No. ...Yes....but I told him I wasn't. But I was.

So I did what I do best. Plan a super crazy project to do while he is gone. This time...start the playroom renovation.

I started by carefully (when I say carefully I really mean in a crazed mothers rage that has stepped on her last lego and barbie shoe) placing everything in a huge pile. I told (read: threatened) the kids that they should say goodbye to a TON of toys they don't play with. Please tell me I am not the only mother that goes stir crazy with cluttered toys?

I started the giant chalkboard and then started painting over the princess mural that was on the main wall. Yes, I was Hayden's hero that day. He hated having princesses in the playroom. They were cute and the painter had done a fantastic job but I had a boy who wouldn't play down there because it felt too girly for him. I can understand that.

Plus this meant I could revamp the whole thing! Happy PINTEREST day to me!

I was sweaty and super unattractive in my painting gear. Remember, the pile of toys were mounding all in a scary heap, and I had my gym music on to keep me motivated. Just then I heard a "HELLO RACHEL!!" My cute neighbor from next door swung by and Maddie guided her down to the most disgusting sight she has probably ever laid her eyes on. Slap me silly and call me embarassed. She was sweet and said nothing about it while I did my best to say "It isn't normally like this". After she left I went up to rinse my paintbrush and holy crap. The kids had a field day upstairs setting up tents, bowls of cereal...the works. My neighbor hadn't just gotten an eyeful of the basement but the ENTIRE house. Sweet deal.

The rest of the week continuted about like it had started. I cleaned two bathrooms in 30 minutes because one child thought it would be a great idea to clean his bike helmet with toilet paper. Soggy toilet paper all over the floor makes me gag to touch it.

It was one of those days where you feel like all you do is just chase one mess to the next and I was exhausted. I sat down to hide for a minute and checked facebook. To add insult to injury...where was he?

Central Park:

and Times Square:

and I smelled like cleaner and paint. :)

I had to take Maddie to her early morning golf lesson and was bound and determined to find happiness in the place I was. It is all about the attitude right?

I will say, the road to the golf course is gorgeous. And I got to behold it all while slumping down in my seat still wearing my pajamas and crazy hair so that all of the dressed and ready to go golfers wouldn't call the cops because some crazed lady was out and about.

Josh arrived back home and next thing was Fathers day. We ended up having to split the day since Josh needed to go up to his Dads and we had a party for my Dad at my parents house. What do you do, right? I took the kids with me and by the end of the night it was like a Mac truck had hit me in the emotional behind.

I came home and like a put together lady I bawled and lost it all on Josh. Super ladylike. Happy Fathers Day sweetie. Your wife is mental. I told him how tired I was, that the kids wouldn't stop fighting, that I missed the gym (yes, being emotionally tired...the gym sounded just like the beaches of Hawaii to me) and a full nights rest.

Somehow he talked me out of the idea of running to the mental hospital and we went to bed. The next morning Grace slept in. I was LOVING the idea of getting a few things done before all 3 were up and at it. I jumped in the shower and I had just gotten out when I heard the sound that NO MOTHER wants to hear. EVER.

Grace was sick.

It continued ALL. DAY. and ALL. NIGHT.

I don't like the word (or any of the slang words associated with the word she was doing). I have a severe germaphobia to it. I am an avid hand sanitizer user. I have it stashed everywhere. Yes, the kids still get sick from time to time but I try to avoid it. (Holy crap my windows need washing. That is disgusting.)

So here I sit the day after.

Someone up there must have heard my ranting and raving and pulling my hair as I exclaimed that I was "SOOO tired" and thought...that girl needs to be shut up. Because I have been. The point of this post? It was probably therapeutic to put it all out there. Sometimes you win...sometimes you lose...sometimes you child gets the flu. I will try my best to stop complaining and suck it up, cause if I don't, clearly someone thinks it is time to put me in my place.

But** I still really really really want to go to New York...right after a REALLY good nap.

(**I will probably always use prepositions at the beginning of sentences because my high school English teacher will never read this or grade me on it. All those hours of teaching me correct English...out the window.)