I\'m Summer, a mouthy, sarcastic bitch. I\'m passionate about natural birth, long term breastfeeding, and living naturally. I curse too much, love tattoos, and will some day be crushed to death by my book collection. I homeschool, dream of gardening, and swing to the left. 
There’s A Hole in My Bucket
There’s an old children’s song about a boy with a hole in his bucket. If you’ve spent hours listening to repetitive children’s songs then you’ve probably heard it more than a few times. It’s a cute, kind of funny song… the first thousand times. Well if you’ve been lucky enough not to have had to endure this ditty it’s fairly simple. The song is a back and forth between two people, one who has a hole in his bucket and the other trying to tell him how to fix it. For every thing the second person says the first asks how until finally at the end when the second person says they will need water. The first asks how will they carry the water, the second replies in the bucket, and the songs starts all over again because as we all know: there’s a hole in his bucket.
I’m feeling a bit like that poor guy with the bucket today. I’m running around in circles trying to fix the hole in my bucket, except I can’t because there’s a damn hole in my bucket.
We’ve not yet lived here a month, but any stranger could walk in and think it’s been a year. The boys have already managed to add marker to nearly all of the walls, and for every one I clean another 3 or 4 get marked up. The cats are not adjusting to the move at all and are leaving me messages of their disruption all over the carpet. A girl can only spend so many hours scrubbing the house over and over again before she decides to hell with it all. Judging by thepile of toys, shoes, and sticky boy socks laying in the living I’d say I’m nearly at that point now.
Then, oh and then, while I was cooking lunch the boys managed to put a hole in the wall. Right in the middle of the staircase where it curves down there is a chunk of wall missing about as big as my head. Pregnancy is the only thing keeping me from the bottle of rum still sitting in the fridge. And I don’t even want to talk about what happened to my cool antique table lamp that is now sitting lifeless and in pieces in the corner.
There’s a hole in my bucket, in my bucket, in my bucket. There’s a hole in my bucket, in my bucket a hole.
Image source – Maira Kouvara
Bless your heart. Just remember: This to shall pass. The boys maybe just acting out because they are a bit nervous about the move. Hugs & many blessings. Here’s to better days!
katie/kitten’s last blog post..Pay it forward
Urgh. I feel your pain. Well, not quite, but almost. I acn’t wait till Thing Two is big enough to run around, the level of destruction we’ve wreaked on this apartment in the past two years is going to instantly double. We have more than our fair share of holes and markered walls too.
Jill’s last blog post..A Comedy of Errors (inspired by Poopsywoo)
Mine are older, but still there is a hole in the wall from bed-jumping and all the clothes are on hangers, but those hangered clothes are all over the beds in a heap.
Yeah, I feel your pain, and I have a bottle of rum in my freezer as well. *laugh*
Whimspiration’s last blog post..Healing: Week 1 & Community Events
just when I needed a crappy childrens song stuck in my head!!!! LOL…….
Well, fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry. Well, fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, fix it.
Yeah, there are days a bottle of rum would do the trick. But, maybe you should just sing: 100 bottles of rum in the fridge, 100 bottles of rum. . .
Hang in there.
Fairly Odd Mother’s last blog post..Post-Election Thoughts
At least your name isn’t Liza….
Hang in there, it gets better!
oh honey….there are no words. I’m sorry.