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As of February 23, 2012, I have a very sweet, very cute little boy. Baby PGS is my world now.

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Saturday, December 15, 2007

how cruel is the golden rule when the lives we lived are only golden plated and I knew that the lights of the city were too heavy for me

So...tonight is the younger brother's birthday party...and I guess that he and the youngest brother are supposed to clean their room. But since they haven't finished it yet...their ridiculously crabby father has "yelled" at them about it approximately three times since he got his lazy butt outta bed less than an hour ago (it's currently 11:23a and my mom and he got up after I did at about 10:45a). And of course, my mom just sits there and lets him irrationally yell at them. I could understand the negativity if they'd actually been up long enough to have had cleaned the entire room, but considering it's Saturday morning and they've always been allowed to watch cartoons until about noon before they really have to start getting their stuff done...why yell at them within 20 minutes of waking up?

Ugh...yesterday, while I was in class, the stepfather decided that I wasn't doing the laundry soon enough for his he decided to do it. Yeah, the only problem with that is that he did it the wrong way. Yes, the clothing was separated into good color groups...but he decided to wash the whites without bleach. And since the majority of the younger brothers' undies are white, they need to be bleached. Oh, and also there were towels in the washing machine that had been there since about they'd been sitting in standing water pretty much and smelled awful...but he put them in the dryer anyway. Considering I folded and put those towels away this morning...I don't know what the rush in getting them clean was...there was hardly any room in the linen closet for the towels. I mean, like I had to force the towels into the closet.

So...yeah...I wish that I knew what made Mr. Crabbypants so crabby and moody. Specifically, what made him like that towards me as often as he is. ::sigh:: Oh, well...I can't do anything about I should quit stressing over it... I mentioned to my mom about it last night at dinner and she just kinda rolled her eyes as if to say 'I don't know what you want me to do about it.' This is why I don't bother telling her about most of the minor things that her jerky husband does.

Hooray for my being part of a crazy, messed up family!! Yeah...or not...

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