5 Kids. 72 Hours. A Guide To Survival.

I did it.

I broke out the emergency chocolate.

It happened yesterday. Right around lunch time, I think.

The details are still a little hazy. I’m dehydrated and intoxicated with sounds, smells, limbs and body fluids of small people.

Before you judge me, and remind me of the dozens of birthday cookies that I have already consumed, please know that one half of the emergency chocolate is still sitting in the cupboard.

I need back up for today. Today is the last stretch. Today is mile 23 of the marathon. When you hit the wall. When power gels, sponges full of water, crowds cheering from the sidelines and globs of Vaseline just don’t matter anymore. It’s sheer will and determination.

Sorry. That’s a metaphor. If you have completed the 26.2 distance of a marathon, you will appreciate it. If not, you will be will be thinking what a nut job the Grasshoppa is and seriously wondering why you continue to read her blog. Then you will unfriend her on facebook, twitter and google-friend connect.

If we do happen to gab on twitter, surely you have had it up to *here* with my countdown tweets. I mean, it’s been a loooong almost three days as Aaron has been tackling his  (3) day 12-hour work shift marathon. I’m sure it’s been no picnic for him either and if it has, I don’t want to hear word one about it. Ya know, for the sake of our nearly 18 year marriage.

I also know that you probably just thought I was arbitrarily pulling numbers out my….

hat when I posted those tweets. I wasn’t. I really DO have a countdown timer. On my iPod Touch.

It’s conveniently located right next to my Angry Bird App. Which is located next to my Sheep Launcher App. I play Sheep Launch when I’m happy.

Not so much when I’m angry.

Angry Birds is what I play when Sheep Launch is just a little too warm, fuzzy and cute. Ya know, when I am holed up with 5 bored, bickering, dehyrated, sun-drunk, been outta school for too long kids, for 14 hours each day…day after day…after day…and I need an outlet. An outlet that won’t land me in prison right before my birthday. Not that prison doesn’t sound heavenly.  It’s just, I don’t think they allow chapstick in prison and I am super dehydrated this week.

So, this Angry Birds, the app where I get to fling angry red birds into glass structures in an attempt  to seek revenge upon the evil pigs that stole the baby bird eggs—–is a safer outlet.

As luck would have it, I suck angry bird feathers at the game which makes me angrier, which fuels my desire to crush the evil pigs, which fuels my anger, which fuels my desire to eat emergency chocolate, which fuels my desire to not gain 25 lbs, which makes me run and do the 30 day shred against my will, which fuels my hatred for Jillian, which fuels my original anger, which fuels my desire to crush evil pigs with angry birds, even though I suck at at flinging angry birds, which makes me angry.

You get the picture? You smell what I’m steppin’ in?

It’s a vicious cycle of anger, chocolate, exercise, chocolate, angry birds, chocolate, evil pigs, exercise, cursing and chocolate.

Please pray. And send chapstick.

10 hours. 35 minutes. 48, 47, 46, 45, 44…..seconds……

~The Grasshoppa

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