Nice day for a Giraffe

I feel bad for my Dear Husband sometimes...there are days when he walks in the door and I just instantly dump all over him about dealing with the kids all day.  But, those are they days I feel as if I am losing my mind.  

Case in Point: (this being AFTER I find the clean and dirty dishes mixed together in the dishwasher and my expensive garden hose sprayer completely thrashed in the sandpit)

 Me:  WHY is Daddy's Listerine ALL over the bathroom floor??!!!

Otter: I spilled it.

Me: ??? and WHY, W.H.Y!!  were you using the Listerine?

 Frog:  **We were cleaning the giraffe.**

Me:    ?            

 I silently hand them two towels and slowly back out of the bathroom.  

THEN Frog come is and says they found a head in the yard...

a talking head.  

O.K.  Must stop what I am doing and check this out bc. WHO KNOWS what the F@$k THAT means...

The children have dug a four foot hole and  buried Raccoon up OVER his ears in the sandpit.  He is standing straight upin the pit with his hands pinned to his sides, covered in sand...but having a hard time BREATHING with the weight of the sand on his chest.

sigh...

I dig him out while they baby cries to be picked up.

Bear walks in the house for lunch

Me: Gripe Gripe Gripe...the kids...Blah Blah Blah... the dishes...whiny whiny whiny...dangerously stooopid descisions...

See, I do not see this as dumping on Bear.  

This is my cry for HELP.  

An outstretched hand, grasping for the last vestiges of a lost reality as most folks know it.

Me, simply trying to place myself on the tiny scrap of firm ground that might confirm...

"This is crazy making...ISN'T IT?  Isn't it?!"

The Giraffe.  

of.course.