For Sale

This little piece of global terrorism has finally pushed me over the edge. I have tried on countless occasions to start the f'er, resulting only in severe shoulder strain. I cannot start it. Add to that the god awful toxic sludge in consumes and burps throughout the neighbourhood and all over our shed...I've had it.

Someone, anyone, give me one reason to have a gas mower. It is so vile to me, that I feel dirty owning it. I have shame and loathing. Im not that person, so why is it there? Yianni, i dont think you understand how incompatible that machine is with the life I want to live. I cannot abide with it any longer.

For the second night in a row, Nemy was marched ruthlessly into the tub, washed aggressively, then put to bed without stories or a snack. Tonight, she refused to get in the car leaving Nadia's, she kept unbuckling and running recklessly throughout the neighbourhood. I know it does not make sense to withhold reading: how do I discipline her? All I do is threaten to take away priviliges. I have been lauding her every move, reinforcing good behaviour, to no avail. She is so needy right now, what am I doing wrong?

Cumulatively, my girls ate today: a sip or two of pink milk, half an orange segment, a bit of burrito shell, a few popcorn kernals, a spoon of white rice. Nemy had a small piece of icecream cake, but artemis, almost none.

Then today I almost lost Artemis because she ran out of Starbucks like a shot and into the traffic.

I think my mothering license is about to be revoked.