I need a vacation...or maybe just more Smirnoff

Friday
Friday night I drove 250 miles to help my mother clean house. She has health issues and company coming in 3 weeks and her house looks like my kids live there. The Friday night drive was a lovely one through fog and rain and tornado warnings. Hunter Boy and Ladybug slept the majority of the way and I talked to Farm Boy.

While I was driving in the lovely weather Lil Bro was drinking mucho amounts of alcohol. So much so that he rented the alcohol and didn't remember calling and talking to me for an hour or promising to go trucking to Minnesota with Farm Boy on Saturday.

Saturday
Woke up early and went for breakfast and garage saling. Came home and we dusted, vaccummed, did dishes, and picked up and the house looked great...then she opened the door to the spare bedroom. OMFG the shit was was piled as high as I am tall. Now I know I'm short, but a 12'x12' room with shit piled 5'1" deep with just enough open space to open the door is damn overwhelming. Temper held firmly in check (aided by the knowledge that I was going to be drinking with my bro later than evening) we started hauling shit out. Two trips and she needed to "take a quick break" and I kept working...an hour later I had 98% of the room cleared out and she was still on her break (yeah yeah just call me Sucker). The 5'1" pile of shit was now a 2" high 3" wide pile of shit that stretched the length of the living and dining rooms. At this point I am thinking I am done...but nooooo we still have the closet to clean out. I never realized how tall the ceilings are in her house until I was on the top of a damn ladder (and yes I am really skeered of heights and ladders) pulling heavy ass boxes off the top shelf wondering how the hell she got them up there. The kicker was the last box off the lowest shelf...who knew that you could jam 200 pounds into a shoe box!!! I sure as hell didn't and whatever was in the little sucker caught me off guard when it shifted and I lost my balance and did a graceful wipe out off the ladder. did mom ask if I was okay...nooo...I believe her comment was "at least you only fell 4 feet" uhm...4 feet is a really long way when your head starts 9' off the ground. Needless to say, I hurt and have bruises in places I didn't know could hurt or bruise.

Somewhere in the midst of this Farm Boy called and said that he went to Minnesota early and was home so Lil Bro was off the hook. At this point Farm Boy had been awake since 3:00 a.m. Friday morning and was exhausted...yes, this was Saturday afternoon and yes he is insane and yes I called his daughter and ratted him out.

The family went out to eat to celebrate Hunter Boy's birthday and then Lil Bro and I went bar hopping. I was the heavy drinker drinking 2 to his 1. Tells you that 1) he had not recovered from the night before and 2) I was pissed.

Sunday
I was hurting so bad that Lil Bro had to come in and help me pack the car. We left early so that I could stop every now and then to walk around the car in hopes that the muscle spasms would go away. The normal 5 hour drive took 8.

8 hours in the car with 2 kids...I now know why animals eat their young.

Had the pleasure of talking to the fucking piece of shit formerly referred to as pond scum, aka the exhusband. He was pissed because the kids didn't answer their phones this weekend. Hunter Boy left his at home and Ladybug had hers but it was in her backpack. So does he call my phone to talk to them...nooo, he calls to yell at me because they don't answer their phones. WTF they don't answer me when I call and I pay for the damn things...WTF does he think he is to call and yell at me...and then the mofo wonders why I don't answer when he calls.

Monday
Don't even ask me what I did at work yesterday...I do not remember. I do remember buying a puppy on Farmville; the kids having 2 hours of TaeKwanDo aka 2 hours of momma time with Smirnoff.

Bottom line...Momma ain't happy so shut the fuck up and get the hell out of my personal space.