Nuttier Than a Frickin’ Fruitcake…

Seriously. I am about three steps away from becoming a homicidal maniac. The hormones this pregnancy are raging. I have issues. My issues have issues. It’s one big, frickin’ roller coaster ride from hell. And it’s still January.

I’m sure the fact that I have become an Oompah Loompah overnight has very little to do with it. And it’s certainly not that my parents have moved in with us and my normally lovely children have turned into the demon spawns from hell. It can’t be my almost potty trained new puppy who has gone back to having a nervous bladder because my mother keeps yelling at her. Or my ever charming husband who has taken to hiding in our room playing Oblivion for hours on end. Now that I think about it I am also certain it can’t be the fact that they have taken over my entire house with their frickin’ crap, causing me to move vast quantities of my own crap into our already very crowded room. We won’t even mention all the well meaning advice…

It’s a stumper alright.

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