Slow down! I want to get off!

God, have I been busy lately. TOO busy. I'm exhausted and I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep for three years. LOL!

This past weekend marked the end of our birthday party hell. The month was filled with WAY too many birthday parties for people ranging from age 1 to age 80. There was roller skating, swimming, pony rides, Elmo, Sparky the Firedog, one unbelieveably psychotic mom, real firemen, live bands and DJs. Frankly, I'm fed up with birthday parties at this point. But on Sunday, we went to the last one and I think we're done for awhile. Of course, now I have to start planning Grace's party soon, but I'm gonna hold off on that for a bit longer, so as to prevent my current seething hatred of birthday parties from seeping into the planning of hers.

So as if the parties alone weren't keeping me busy enough, Steve decided on Saturday that we were going to clean out the scary, all-carpeted "bedroom" in the basement and move the majority of the girls' toys down there and out of the main living area of our house. I understood his thinking in theory since I had just about HAD it with the bazillion (literally a bazillion... I counted once) toys scattered throughout the downstairs, and the fact that no matter how much and how often I "cleaned up," it still always looked like Toys R Us threw up in our home.

So we spent all of Sunday carrying everything downstairs into the basement. (I did get a two-hour break to take the girls to that damn birthday party, but that wasn't much more fun than what I was doing here). Everything was going fairly well until Steve decided that he and I were going to carry the shelves down into the basement too. The shelving unit is actually a HUGE metal 6-foot long unit that literally came from a general store. So they're sturdy and they're HEAVY. I wasn't too sure about me being able to even lift them, let alone carry them downstairs, but Steve wasn't giving me much choice. We "discussed" for a good 20 minutes about whether or not they came apart in the middle (we couldn't remember). I said yes. Steve swore they were welded together and that we had to carry the whole unit at once.

Fine. So we carried. And I rested every 3 steps. And I hurt my back. And I hurt my fingers. And I tripped. And I cursed. And when we were literally 3 steps from the final destination of the shelves downstairs, they fell apart. Right in the middle. Where Steve swore they were welded together. Mother f*cker! Grrrr...

But anyway, we're still working on transferring everything down there. I must admit that the upstairs looks WAY better and cleaner. But I have had to make WAY too many trips up and down the damn stairs, helping the girls carry toys upstairs to play with. [sigh]

And in the midst of all of this, Steve decided it was also time to take down Hannah's crib (being used as a daybed for quite awhile now, with one of the sides taken off), and put up a twin bed. Dude, NOW? When we still have the basement and downstairs in complete disarray? What the hell is wrong with you?

So now I have a REALLY sore back that's really bothering me, THREE floors that are completely trashed and need a TON of work done to them (by me), and I'm effing tired. [sigh] Fun.

Later 'gators. I'm off to try to stretch my back out a bit and then I need to go try to find the rest of Hannah's room under the clothing, dirty laundry, old shoes and boxes that are currently scattered in there.