Today the following happened between 4:30 and 5:30 p.m. 

Asher woke up from his nap really cranky. He’s been beating his head on the floor during tantrums, which is AWESOME! because clearly he doesn’t hurt himself enough as it is, right? Anyway, he got mad at Maverick for taking his toy and he proceeded to beat his head on the brick fireplace hearth. He not only has a huge bruise from it, but scrapes all over his head as well. Do other kids do this?! Because it’s graying me.

Later, I was feeding the baby on the couch while the boys played. I had just given her the bottle when Maverick scooted over next to the couch on his belly, peering under the side table. “What are you doing?” I asked. He had found a toy. Right then, here comes Asher, trying to see what his big brother is doing.

“ASHER HAS A BUG!”  

This is what I heard Maverick yell at the precise moment that Asher threw a gigantic, black, dead beetle in the air at us. I screamed at the top of my lungs, scaring the shit out of Pepper, who now HAD A DEAD BEETLE STUCK TO HER BELLY.

The baby was scared to death, for obvious reasons. It probably sucks when you’re trying to eat and people are running and screaming all around you and then the person feeding you screams … and so, she got back at all of us by having The Biggest Blowout Ever. When I realized that poo was soaking through my clothes I jumped up and rushed her to her bedroom, stripping us both.

That is when my next door neighbor stopped by. Of course she did. I couldn’t answer the door because I was too busy being half-dressed and rinsing poop off my daughter while my middle son stood in the bathroom pulling off his diaper and peeing on the floor as my eldest child yelled “MOMMY! MRS. DEBBIE IS HERE!” over and over and over and over and over again from the living room.

And that, my friends, is why they call it the witching hour. In case you didn’t know. I need a drink and my husband, in that order, as soon as possible.