The monsters have taken to doing improv gymnastics on my father's treadmill - hanging upside down like little primates and laughing with glee at the look of horror on my face as I panic, envisioning permanent spinal damage.
Dumpie has had five (count 'em) outfit changes today...the laundry basket heaving and a quickly diminishing wardrobe at the mercy of a snack-frenzied toddler.
Egg cannot understand why I scream and holler when he plays ball in the apartment. Apparently all the glass vases and other breakables are mere knick-knacks to his unseasoned eye.
I have taken to slipping off downstairs to the gym each day for a brief respite from the drain of single parenting - pounding out my frustration on the dependable old elliptical machine.
At this rate I'll have shot nerves, crazed eyes but hard thighs by the end of the summer...