Hope is for chumps.

I am hosting bunco tonight. As life usually happens, Aiden just split his knee open. He needs stitches. I started getting the kids ready and the phone rang. Trenton is in the nurses office. He just barfed at school. I'm wearing jammies and my hair looks like I styled it with an egg beater. Aiden is on the couch, demanding more ice, crying that his knee hurts and being a grouchy patient. Reed is eating a packet of hot cocoa, under the kitchen table. I'm not too sure where Ella is, but at least she's not whining in my ear, as has been the case all day.

Hopefully I can find a semi clean outfit, tame my mane and pick up barfy Trenton and the rest of the school aged crew. We are all going down the hill to see Dr. Perez and possibly get some stitches. I am out of barf bags, so hopefully Trenton can keep from douching the car with vomit. Hopefully, I can still make Bunco tonight. Hopefully I win so that I can pay for the therapy that I am going to need after today. My hope is strong, but I can hope in one hand and shit in the other and I'm pretty sure which one will fill up first.