Torn

I'm torn between being excited to go on vacation in TWO DAYS, and being cranky about writing the mechanic a second check in two weeks for repairs.

I'm torn between being super duper excited to go on vacation in TWO DAYS, and being crabby about laundry, cleaning and more cleaning. (I wouldn't clean, but I need to, to find the children)

I'm torn between feeling overly ecstatic about getting on an airplane in TWO DAYS, and feeling complete dread over seeing The Mole-less Enrique Iglesias, DDS this afternoon. It's just a regular check up...but they always bring something up, like, "Nikki, did you know that this filling is 18 years old and is wearing down and will need to be replaced before you go to bed tonight so you can sleep without dreaming of choking on it?"

I'm torn between being super duper, overly ecstatic, out of my gourd happy about starting vacation in TWO DAYS, and feeling completely broken spirited about breaking up one more stinkin' fight between Number One and Number Two.  Since her party on Saturday I have heard the following more than one hundred times "Maggie, it's not a toy. It's my present and I don't want you playing with it." Followed by smacking, screaming and crying.

Mostly though, I am torn about being happy and sad that we each had a piece of this cake, and then threw the rest in the trash so we wouldn't eat it. My lips are sad. My thighs are happy.