Off We Go …

Most of the time, getting out of the house requires a few hours of effort, lots of sweat, a few outfit changes, a thrown fit (or two) and more than a few minutes of tears.
And this is just on my part.
When the hell does the sweating stop? I don’t even wear a coat now during the winter, and I HATE being cold. I’m so freaking hot all the time. And not in the “good kind” of housewifey-hot way. In the totally-stressed-out-trying-to-pretend-like-I-got-this-but-I’m-always-afraid-I’m-a-horrible-mom way.
I got bangs cut, for God’s sake! Trying to be cute. Now I just have stringy, sweaty hair plastered to my huge forehead. It’s a really good look for me. Not.
But, here’s what happens when I finally shove everyone into their socks, shoes and coats and then toss them out the door while shoving the dog and cat back inside and trying to make sure I have my purse, keys and coffee have the girls ready to go.
They go and do this. Face the world together like a couple of feral cats. Super, super cute. Protective of  their territory and one another. And ready to scratch your eyes out if you mess with either of them. Or their mommy.
Seriously. Try it. I dare you.

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