Already Tired of the Glasses Thing

I was eagerly anticipating the arrival of the try at home kit from Warby Parker yesterday. Online tracking told me the package would be delivered on Tuesday. I resolved to DO THIS THING. So I refrained from showering until I was ready to do myself up all nice for you internet folks. I was semi-worried that the parcel would be "signature required" and if I wasn't there to catch the door, it would go back on the truck. So I was KINDA waiting around... all smelly, knowing that the minute I popped in the shower THAT is when the doorbell would ring and I would miss it entirely. It was a very frustrating game of chicken.

At 6:00, the little box FINALLY arrived, and I'd already had a day. The wind-down from The Husband's week long vacation was not going pleasantly. The twins have been at each other constantly, as you may have noticed on Twitter. I've been to my breaking point many times, and this ends in separating all three children and confining them to their rooms. It's not pretty. But seriously- THEY NEED TO LEAVE EACH OTHER ALONE FOR A WHILE.

In any event, I rallied. Little Man's bedtime was in an hour. I hopped into a shower, scrubbed myself and hair down, then tossed some clothes on. At this point, the girls were asking if they could do Activity A- I did not want them to do Activity A, told them NO! They were welcome to do Activity B while I dried my hair and put on some makeup.

Now looking decent, I started snapping pictures- my door open so I could hear any mischief making (assumably)- and the pictures were sucktastic. I hate taking pictures of myself. And it was night, so poor lighting. Commence hair pulling. I threw my hands up in surrender and decided what I had would just be good enough, and now I am so over this whole thing!

THAT is when I went in search of the children. Finding the playroom a complete disaster (this was expected) I found that Activity A had been done- and it was everywhere. Anger. Checking each room, and arriving at the kids' bathroom last I beheld THE SIGHT YOU CANNOT UNSEE.

The kids had brought in their kitchen toys; spoons, spatulas, mixing bowls, colanders,  tea cups, etc. These items were scattered along the floor, wet. There were also some in the bowl of the TOILET, along with six little hands. IN THE TOILET.

This is when I DIED.

Long story short, it was a bad night.

Oh! And those pictures I took- they were a blurry, icky mess. (deep sigh of defeat)

So this morning, before preschool, I threw all this together. Side note: in the tub behind me, a collection of play kitchen toys are drying from their bleach-bath.

 I look so depressed in some of the pictures. I kind of am. It's hard to feel peppy and pretty staring down your own double-chinned mug, wallowing in a pool of parental despair. And taking pictures of yourself? It feels skeevy. Like who is that dumbo smiling at? Do I really look like such an imbecile in real life?!

Having effectively talked myself out of this whole business, I jumbled up the pictures anyway trying to get too much other stuff done with the different frames, and because they are so similar and minutely different... I can't tell! So no picture-posting today!

I give up! White flag! White flag!

Don't worry about it, internet. I will get my crap together and pick out something with my big girl britches on.

In my head I look like this:

Source: reddishness.tumblr.com via craftyashley on Pinterest

Let's all just pretend I do... KEEP THE FANTASY ALIVE!