Number of times my three year old has run away: 3, to be returned 3 times by perfect strangers.
Number of days my oldest son has missed school: 3, with 4, 5, and 6 to pass before the week is over.
Number of bloody injuries perpetuated by my three year old: 1, with bonus points for happening before Santa pictures.
Number of times I have cried today: 2, with a third approaching.
Number of hours I have slept: Less than 10, cumulatively.
I am wishing, and hoping, and praying that my new modem arrives tomorrow early, because I feel like I have been completely cut off from the world outside of my cell in my toddler run version of Gitmo.
Fuck your Foggy magic.
2 days ago