Fifteen Days In May

There is a rumor around my line of work; If it rains on the first day of May then it will rain a total of fifteen days in May. A more specific version of “When It Rains It Pours”. So far it seems to be correct that dreariness begets more gloom and doom. It is hard to wake up ready to tackle the world when you go to bed feeling behind.

For example, on Saturday, Supermom decided to change out the summer/winter wardrobes. Along with the switch is the sizing up of each child who have all managed to grow over the past few months. Therefore, it was absolutely necessary to bring in eleven Tupperware boxes from the garage and sort though each piece of clothing. Plus we did shoes.



I feel like the picture doesn’t quite cover it. 

I say “we” but I just carried the heavy stuff back and forth. The volume of clothes and shoes and gloves and hats and… just shit… that goes along with four kids. We have a bag of hats that could keep the neighborhood warm on a field trip to Alaska. We have enough gloves that each kid could wear one for the sole purpose of wiping their ass one time and we still wouldn’t need toilet paper for a week. The quantity of shoes is obscene but even worse if the fact that ninety percent of them are utterly destroyed by the fact that my club footed Orc children can’t stand vertically and end up walking on the sides of the shoes. And dragging the toes of the shoes. I couldn’t scrape the toes any more completely if I gave a monkey a fat rock of meth and fresh package of 80 grit sandpaper. Holy sheep shit on a sandwich. Give me a minute…

And they shed.



One pass with the vacuum. 

People talk about pets being dirty or high maintenance (totally true) but I don’t think children are much better. Supermom vacuumed around the bedrooms and found enough hair for a fifth American Girl doll. We have enough stray toy parts and doll clothes to fashion a Frankenstein style doll. She would have to be a) homeless or b) a stripper for the hair to pass a reality check with all the glitter and shreds of colored paper. Man these kids have me frazzled today, I just suggested we make a Frankenstein American Girl Doll who is also a homeless stripper.

What else can I bitch about?

Did I share the picture of toothpaste on the stairs? At least it will match the toothpaste on the wall, light switch, carpet, most white shirts, sink, mirror, bathtub, and toilet. Notice I didn’t say toothbrush. That is because they avoid actually using the paste correctly. Speaking of finding the toothpaste in the toilet, here is a fun anecdote. I was in the middle of scrubbing out a toilet one day and one of the children walks up and looks quizzically at the stain in the toilet. She then says, “Try a toothbrush, they work really well for that.” We bought all new toothbrushes that night.


Yay for the Dora the Explorer Lou-fa hanger that is stuck on the column. (I don’t know if I spelled Lou-fa correctly but that is what auto-correct gave me so…)

So today we received the remains of our diapered dog biscuit. Things are better but it is still hard when you keep remembering the little things. I knock on the front door softly so that she won’t bark. Stuff like that. Also, I have never had a box of cremated remains. It is more comforting that I would have thought.


How cute. This is my favorite picture of her. 

Then this afternoon I got a text with the following picture attached.


This is Lady Bug’s hair. She did not have a hair appointment scheduled today. 

It seems that Don Threeto decided it was time to hand out a haircut. I had hoped we would miss this milestone. Everyone has a haircut story but we have been clean for the better part of nine years. There was that one time that I cut the bow out of Jane’s hair when she came home from the hospital but I was a new dad and I thought the glue would hurt her if I tugged it so I’m not counting that one. In hindsight, Threeto did a pretty good job and it isn’t really obvious that Lady Bug has been thinned out up front. Maybe she has a secret talent.

If you are bracing yourself for a rainy May, this post is for you. Stay low, life is swinging hard this month. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.


      1. Didn’t know if I should feel sorry for you or laugh… or be thankful that mine have never cut their hair… Pretty sure they won’t start with this anymore either…

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