She's alive!

Ah, what a beautiful evening it is. I sit here reflecting on how terrible of a blogger I am as I chug a bottle of Skinnygirl Margarita. It's just been one of those days. You know...the kind where Luca doesn't have an accident for the entire 2 hours that we're out running errands but as I stand at the front door trying to unlock it he pees his pants (all while Avery was having a fit on the front lawn...a note to my neighbors: please do not call DYFS on me today. They will just give her back to me and walk away). And also the kind where Avery has a 7 hour temper tantrum. You know...just a ho hum kind of day. Hopefully it should only take one bottle of Skinnygirl and one yittle (yes, 'yittle' is my new word for little) bottle of vanilla vodka to recover from this cluster fuck of a day. Oh and did I mention that Avery only took a 20 minute nap? Haha...I must have left that fabulous tidbit out. Ah, wait....it gets better. Big Poppa is out of town. FABulous! Doesn't he pick the most convenient days for these business trips of his?!

So, it was a good day in the Cav house. And you know what? Shit is deceiving sometimes. I thought, without a doubt, that today would be a great day. The kids actually slept in until 8:15am! That's an AMAZING start to any day, right? Wrong. I should have known that because they were nice enough to sleep in that by mid-day mid-morning they would give me a big old 'fuck you' and rebel. And that's precisely what they did.

In better Cav news, Luca just turned 3 on Monday. Where did my baby go? He had 2 fabulous construction themed birthday parties. Yes, parties, plural. Because one party just isn't enough for a measly 3 year old. And Avery? Well she's Avery. She just turned 22 months and I've come to realized that I'm fuuuucked when she hits the 'terrible twos.' Like, the thought of it frightens me because I feel like we should already be 9 months into the terrible twos and she's still 2 months away from them. I love her. She's so damn cute. I think that's part of the problem though. She knows she can get away with murder. You tell her no and be prepared for a solid 30 minute tantrum. She such a typical girl already. Can't say no to her. Ah, her mama's daughter.

Alright, I need another margarita. Or maybe some sort of vodka concoction. And I need to put the kids to bed still. Oh what? You thought the kids were already in bed and I was drinking up a storm? No, no, no silly readers. Remember...it's been that kind of day!