Spitting Bullets

Have you heard the term “spitting bullets” before? Well, I was at that point this morning. My oldest son Patrick, the apple of my eye, the lovable, sweet, caring, pain in my butt, had me to that point this morning. We had to play the traditional “I’m tired” game when it was time to go to school. He didn’t want to get out of bed, however, neither did the other two. Then, as we are walking out the door 3 minutes late, he discovers it was drizzling out and had to have a coat to wear. However, I have no idea where his coat is. It’s most likely in one of the quarantined bags that was placed in the office back in the spring. (We had a little problem with head lice, but that is another story I will have to tell you about at a later date.)

Anyway, I didn’t think this morning could get much worse, but I was wrong. As I am driving to work, in the light rain, I notice my car has a leak. A leak…inside of the car…not from the window seal…from the LED screen that shows what the temperature is outside. GREAT!!!! And how do you suppose this leak was made? My children, that’s how. They have climbed on top of the van more times than I can count and has obviously cracked the roof somewhere. You know, mini-vans are made out of fiberglass these days, not metal. So it wouldn’t take much for an 8-year-old that weighs at least 50 pounds to crack my van roof. Especially if he got on top of it enough times, which he has. I am not saying that Patrick is the only one that gets on the car. The two girls have done it too. But Patrick is the normal culprit.

So now I don’t only have a van that squeals. (Nope, still haven’t fixed that squeal) But now I have a car that squeals and leaks. I was telling a friend at work that I will probably have to get some caulking and hopefully find the crack so I can cover it up with silicon or something. My friend suggested duct tape. In fact, she said they have so many new colorful duct tapes that you can choose from. LOL I told her that my luck would be that there will be enough spots to cover up that I will probably end up spelling a bad word on my car. Mind you, it would be on the roof of my car, so not many would see it. But with the way my life is going, I would end up putting the letters F. U. on the top of my van with some colorful duct tape. Then the next morning the traffic reporter will report something like this, “There are no backups on our main highways this morning. However, there is a very noisy van driving East bound that has the message ‘F. U.’ on the roof of the car.” LOL Yep, my van would be known as the F. U. van for the rest of my life, all because my son cracked the roof of my van. Now do you see why I was about to spit bullets this morning? This is my life…does anyone want to trade with me?

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