The air is thick with the smell of Raid! as Scott finishes off the last of a nearly empty bottle on the thousands of cockroaches who have taken over our garage and are heading upstairs into the palapa. I've emailed the gardener and I'm confident he will come spray yet more chemicals tomorrow morning to try to contain the problem. Scott says that ten bottles of Raid! would not be enough. It just boggles the mind.
I am choosing not to go look at the problem and Scott has kindly agreed not to tell me any more than I am telling you, lest his lovely wife suffer from sleep deprivation as she imagines every sound and every movement to be the approaching army of cockroaches.
In happier news, HotMexicanMama won her first Fantasy Football championship tonight, and in an ultra-competitive league full of MEN. Actually, it's possible that the "Mama" in "HotMexicanMama" dropped out before the season started and "Papa" had to take over the team. I'm just saying it's possible.
Finally...the most shocking news of the day...we met with Brynn's teachers today and, in the course of normal conversation, Brynn's main teacher called her...
What? Adolescent? Where was I when she switched from early childhood to adolescence?
My baby is an adolescent? Who needs to be given household chores? Like changing her bed, doing her laundry, cleaning her room, and setting and clearing the table?
I am the mother of an adolescent. This may take a while to sink in.