the Bitch in the house

On our own it has been nervewracking and liberating all at the same time. The LittlEinstein had a major meltdown this evening which is now becoming a habit. I think when it is just about time for the to sun to bounce it’s last rays off our chili plants, it is also the bewitching hour… b’twixt eve and nigh. When I want to enjoy some giggles and silly snuggle time, my kids are veering off into emotionality expressways. It’s not been pretty… therapuetic but not pleasant at all. Tonight I decided to shake things up a bit in order to tamper out the flames of sadness and frustration shooting off my guys and bouncing all over the house. I took the boys on a bikeride to chained soft-serve shoppe. I would’ve loved the gelatto/coffee house just beyond the hood, but no such luck… two tired kids and a tuckered out mama needed proximal sugar coated love time nearby.

Yet it was still a visiting day for BigShot so after the major meltdown happened it seemed like a good plan to peddle our way to vanilla’d (not butt-nilla [more on that later!]) fugdey goodness. As we sat under the tree just off central avenue because outdoor seating on the obviously delineated patio would be just too much to ask for, I got ants in my pants. Literally. And they bit me which made me do the cootie dance. Literally. On central avenue, I was workin’ the coooteren~a! And the gyrations were not missed by local travelors surely on their way to bars or backing home from one…