Meth heads

Having an almost 2 year old is very similar to allowing a meth head to live in your house. Said meth head lives rent free and has every right to refuse to eat what you cook them (they are on meth after all), throw screaming, outrageous fits over misplacing their meth (or purple crayon) then running laps through the house because meth makes them hyper. Dear god tell me this is an age NOT meth problem (at least there is rehab for meth). Our child has become crazy. Fits like I have never seen. One second she is deep throating a hairbrush, don't act like you don't do that, the next she is on the floor writhing in pain because (a.) I took it away, or (b.) she touched her back of throat hangy thing with it and it hurt. I'm guessing because I took it away.  This shit is b.a.n.a.n.a.s.  Anyhow, she is awesome.  I love her more than I could have ever imagined loving, and she pushes my buttons more than I ever knew ANYONE in the world could.  So that's whats going on this week. Still loving running, loving that I am going to Atlanta to see my sister for her birthday this weekend (ALONE), and reading this blog that I found because it is fab.

Because little picked out her clothes and headband...

 A little neighborhood boy brought his "fire truck" by for Scarlet & her friend to try

 And we made Pioneer Woman's Lemon Chicken Pasta tonight...Hold me fat pants, hold me tight.

Happy week guys.

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