Australia, Here I come

Today was one of those days. You know the kind of day that Alexander had. The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days. The ones where you plan to move to Australia. It started last night actually. I went to my writer's group with a piece I knew was going to be eaten alive. Why I tortured myself doing something so foolish? I thought that the jokes were funny enough to coax them to forgive me. I was wrong. No one got my jokes for all the reasons that I knew they were going to eat the piece alive. I think I'll move TV School to Australia.
Then I woke up and I had a took my medicine late so I could go to the writer's group hangover. The kids were not interested in getting organized on their own, and we were a little late for swim class. I was going to let the littles play on the playground while we shared a box of Junior Mints, but I forgot my watch, so we had to go sit on the benches in the humid pool area, again. Peter stole another child's cars and then tried to run away while I was watching and waving at the three in the pool. I wonder if you have to know how to swim to live in Australia.
We got home and I set them free to play while Peter took his nap. They were having a grand time riding down the middle of the street on their bikes. My friend came by and reminded me that some of the teens drive too fast, and that she usually sits outside with her kids when they play outside. She had a point. I brought them all inside and they got really bored. I bet they'd be able to entertain themselves for an hour in Australia.
My poison ivy began to itch and I was out of the cream to make it stop. The kids decided to gang up on each other, and to test the line between clever dialogue and sass. I had to be momzilla. My popularity sank through the floor. I bet moms are deeply revered in Australia.
I scratched the poison ivy until it bled. Sometimes you have to give in to these things. I officially became a masochist when I splashed it all with Sea Breeze. Then I remembered that I have Zyrtec from a bad reaction to Amoxicillin. Why couldn't that thought have suggested itself before I gave in to the orgy of scratching? I bet Zyrtec is over the counter in Australia.
Then my husband took over and made dinner. He got all those ornery kids to eat and clean up and behave with some decorum. He gave me permission to go blog it out, and he made me up a plate for when I feel better. You know I bet they don't have anyone that great in Australia. I guess I better stay home.