Spring Break takes on a whole new meaning when you're a parent. No trips to Daytona Beach, no flights to Cancun, no breaking out the bikini and going crazy for some MTV reality show. (Not that I ever did ANY of that when I was younger. I was really boring.) We're off school this week and this is what my "Spring Break" will consist of: fighting with the kids, begging them to NOT trash the house, breaking up fistfights between the older two, trying to keep them from running down to the road and playing in traffic and beating my head against the wall out of sheer frustration. Oh yeah, I'm also cleaning and fixing up my laundry room. Whoop-de-friggin'-doo.
The only girl goin' wild around here will be my one year old daughter. She's a real party animal: throwing Cheerios, playing in the TV cabinet, pooping in public, and occasionally taking her top off and flashing the world. I'm pretty sure Joe Francis ain't gonna be knockin' on my door any time soon. Oh dear Lord, I just PRAY she never ends up on a commercial in the middle of the night, flashing her ta-tas and saying "I've never done this before!". I don't think my heart could take it.
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