Last night Precious Youngest was stressed. I fixed her a late dinner when she came home from work. We visited about her day and considered her wardrobe options for this weekend’s debate tournament. I went to bed with thoughts of being as helpful to her in the morning as I could.
This morning I gave myself quite a paper cut on the cardboard flap of a box top when I was setting out her breakfast. Then I burned myself ironing a blouse for her to wear to the aforementioned debate tournament. I kissed her on her way out the door and wished her good luck at the tournament.
After she left for school and I was dressing for work and realized the sweater I planned to wear was missing. (Those of you who live with teen aged girls will understand the pain of living with
BIG MISTAKE.
Seriously people. Maybe she’s stressed because she lives in a PIG STY. I’m just sayin’.
6 comments:
Darlin. Not only daughters.
The battles my mother and I fought over "borrowed" clothes were legendary.
Oooh, it's like watching a horror movie: "No! Don't open the door! Aieee!"
I don't have the problem with them stealing my clothes, as they are both much smaller than I am. But between the two of them? Oy. All the "that's mine!" and "stop wearing my ______!", it never ends. And the accusations of "She wore my _______, and now I can't find it!", only to find it later balled up under the bed of the accuser. Snort.
Really. you should see my son's room. It's scary.
I can relate...and she is only SIX! Hope you come out of your funk soon!
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