It is 2:30 am. I am up. This is not my choice, especially since Justin and his friend are sleeping on the family room floor and expect eggs and sausage at 8 am.
I am up because Evan has the Worst. Tummyache. Ev.ER. And has been whining since 11 pm. I am up because I asked for help from Pat and was made to feel like I have no compassion. Actually, those were his exact words. Honey, if you read this, you really REALLY hurt me. I was making a big confession to you in stating that I needed you to take over, or I was afraid I was gonna slap him, but instead, I feel like I'm not allowed to be frustrated after 3 HOURS of ridiculous whining. (You have never heard whining till you've heard Evan. He's the master.)
AFter a good 10 minutes of crying and googling "childhood stomach pains," I am willing to go back upstairs. Wish me luck... and sleep.
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