You are currently browsing the daily archive for October 2nd, 2008.
Oy. This morning I woke up to dreary skies and a sniffly, snotty Alaina. Poor munchkin caught the plague from an unknown source, and is now sneezing/coughing all over the place. I don’t have very much faith that the rest of us won’t follow suit, and man, is this going to be rough. Julianna has never had a cold before, and sick babies are NOT happy campers. Neither are sick husbands, and while I’m taking care of sick babes, I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to baby Andrew like every man craves.
What is it with men, anyway? I had some sort of AWFUL virus a while back, puking all over the place and doubled over with horrific, gut-wrenching stomach cramps. I got treated somewhat like I was exaggerating. A man gets the sniffles and it’s all over. They are going to DIE, they lay on the couch moaning piteously about being toooo haaaaawt and then they are freeeeezing, and then before you know it, they’re hungry and can’t find the remote and need a tissue and a dose of Dayquil and wah wah wahhhhh. If you’re not available to wait on them hand on foot, you clearly do not love them and my GAWD, how DARE you be in the bathroom, he needs VAPOR RUB, you selfish whore. Ahem. I don’t have issues with sick husbands, I swear! I think I’m just in need of a little TLC now and then to combat this (slight) bitterness.
Moving on… I ordered an exersaucer from Amazon, and it’s not here yet. It says it should be here tomorrow, but I am of little faith. The tracking info says it was shipped on the 29th, but nothing else. As far as I know, my exersaucer is still in Kentucky. Which, no… bad… NOT OKAY. I need that thing! My sanity! It is at stake here! Please, please deliver my exersaucer tomorrow, FedEx people. A sick toddler and a baby who could be getting sick and a mom who could very well lose the three effing marbles she is so desperately clinging to would really appreciate it.
P.S., it looks like it may just rain around these parts in the near future. Andrew broke my windshield wipers mid-summer, and hasn’t found the time (too busy playing with his boat) to fix them yet. If you don’t hear from me soon, it may be because I have killed him.
Our long weekend (or really, our week, since Andrew took some time off) was pretty kicked-back and relaxed, which was much needed. Somewhere in that week we celebrated our 2-year marriage anniversary, saw The Dark Knight (awesome, amazing, run to your nearest theater), and took the kidlets to the boardwalk. We had lunch at a little Mexican place, walked around downtown Santa Cruz, the mall, and downtown Capitola, drove around and listened to music and went to Dairy Queen (Snickers-Butterfinger Blizzard = heaven in a cup) all CHILD-FREE. I really needed that. I miss spending time alone with Andrew, when we can just enjoy one another without having to wipe boogers/change diapers/raise little humans. We get along so nicely at those times… it gives me hope that maybe when the kids are grown and gone, my husband won’t have died years before from blunt force trauma mysteriously poisoned dinner um, stress? The hope is that we will still get along and will be able to enjoy the rest of our lives. Days to ourselves really remind us that we care about one another, and that there was a time (before babies and bills) when our love was simple. I’m thinking we should definitely implement a Date Day. At least once a month, because the days following are blissful, and the stress relief is unimaginable. Unless you have two (or however many) small children of your own, and then you likely know EXACTLY what I’m talking about.
So, rambling aside, this last week was a pretty good one. The kids had a blast and I am not plotting my husband’s demise at present (this is subject to change). Back to work for everyone today! Back to laundry and exploding poop diapers. To dishes and grocery shopping and chicken nuggets on the run. My sister came over after work and came with us to Target and Winco, and that was pretty awesome. An extra pair of hands to baby-wrangle or toddler-threaten is always a plus.
Side note: Hypothetically, if your mother-in-law was terrifyingly like Marie Barone a la Everybody Loves Raymond, what would you do? Hypothetically?
P.S. This post was really all over the place, because my thoughts are mostly fragmented at present. Thank you, Firefox spell check, for keeping me from looking like a TOTAL idiot. Instead, I’m only sort of an idiot.
P.S.S. More coherent thoughts brewing. I think. I hope! While you wait, gaze upon my way-cute children.
I can’t believe Christmas is almost here. Again. Breathing down my neck. Whispering in my ear. It says, “Spend money. Alaina needs three thousand toys, new pajamas, a pony, and a partridge in a pear tree.” And the sad part is that I obey like a trained dog begging for a biscuit. Not to mention that my FIL has his birthday on the 7th, my nephew’s birthday is on the 12th, Shannon’s birthday is on the 20th, which is also the same day as my sorta-anniversary (our dating anniversary). Then of course there is Christmas, then my dad’s birthday on the 30th, and then it’s Alaina’s birthday January 16th. Can we say GIFTING OVERLOAD? Sweet Jeebus.
Luckily, I have most of my gifting already worked out because I am so super neurotic like that. Shannon I think I’m all done shopping for, Alaina has more than enough gifts in the gift closet but that won’t stop me from buying a bunch more. I have no idea what to get my FIL… but shouldn’t that be Andrew’s problem? He’s not my dad. And it’s not so much that I just don’t care as it is that I am not a man, not this particular man’s son, and don’t have any effing CLUE what he would want. Not that it won’t end up my fault on the day before when we have no card, no gift, and still no clue. Because, you know. I am WIFE. It’s my “job” put on my little apron and bake pies and tend the wee ones and write cute notes on birthday cards. And be a mind-reader. And expert gifter! What? I became telepathic when I said my vows. Didn’t you?
In other news, today I mopped the floor. A lot. A WHOLE EFFING LOT OF FLOOR MOPPING. It takes a really long time to clean the floor when you a) are infected with a kicking fetus who is also pissed that you dare bend over, b) mother to an almost two-year-old who wants to know the golden, sparkly secret surrounding The Great Mysterious Bucket, and c) a little bitter because your husband is fishing and you are having a spectacular day alone with factor a and b. After I mopped, I did some dishes. Then I sat down and hoped that I could just sleep. Alaina took that opportunity to poke me in the eye, because I am no use to her if I’m sleeping on the job (and really, the nerve of me).
Then Andrew came home and made a mess in the newly cleaned kitchen. (Insert murderous laugh here.)
