Myself has got a secret

Are you ready? Kay, here goes...I am a horrible mother. No, no, really. I made that really kewl blog for Kekoa's 1st birthday and have been so ridiculously busy that I never made one for Owen when he turned 8 or for Abra when she played the cello in the school talent show. And I have all kinds of really spectacular excuses, but I will refrain from using them because, really, what's the point.
No, forget that. I am using them.
Jeff being gone means: a)I have all the kids, b)I have ALL the kids, c)I have school, d)I have housework, and of course, e)I have ALL THE KIDS and you like have to feed them and clothe them and play with them or they get all snotty and annoying and you love them, but holy crap, I just need five frickin' minutes in the bathroom in the dark so none of you can see me while I scribble my last will and testament on a piece of toilet paper before I die because I must have Alzheimer's or something because I don't remember how all of you got to be mine and I have to be like responsible for you and stuff.
*Sigh*
But we still manage to do fun stuff like go to the playground and watch James be totally freaked out by the slide and Ruthie never ever leave the swing and eat ice cream at ridiculous temperatures and times of day and Owen and I are getting very good at Smash Brothers on the Wii. Wii have totally kicked its butt. And Abra is always kicking my butt at the Naruto Wii, but I can still clap the loudest at her school functions and exclaim profusely over how awesome she is getting at cello.
This mothering gig is hard, but I think I might keep it.