We stopped by the house today to drop off the fig tree I bought and do a bit of cleaning. My kids are wild, they look wild, smell wild, act wild. While I was nursing Serenity they were wrestling down stairs in one of the bedrooms. I didn't know this and I have told them not to, but what do I know? Suddenly I hear screaming and a gaggle of kids running up the stairs shouting words like broken widow, open door, wrestling. I wake the baby in my haste to asses the damage. Apparently Mason was showing Abby a wrestling move and picked Nettie up slamming her into the mirror closet door shattering it to pieces. Thankfully no one was hurt. I was so mad I couldn't see straight. Thirty years those groovy glass mirrored closet doors have been there. They have seen us and several other people through the years. Three days with my kids in the house and they are broken. That doesn't look good.
I just threw a bajillion shoes in the laundry machine, crossing my fingers the mud caked on the bottom doesn't clog the works. This being a mom thing is messy business.
