I mentioned several months ago that I like to dodge work related travel because I don't like to leave my kids. I'm pretty sure I should have knocked on wood because, lo and behold, my employer informed me recently that I won't be avoiding a certain 2 week training course anymore. Then my employer scheduled me to hit the road next week. Facing two weeks alone with the children, my husband actually sounded mildly depressed when telling me how much he's going to miss me. If absence really does make the heart grow fonder, I expect that man to have my face tattooed on his forehead and a shrine erected in my honor by the time I get back.
My strategy for mentally preparing to leave my babies for two weeks has primarily been to never think about it. Thinking about = mother guilt, premature separation anxiety and general fretting. Not thinking about it = way better.
And not thinking about it actually hasn't been that hard because work has been really hectic. So hectic I've actually caught myself fretting about the train I have powering along at work getting derailed if I'm not there to oversee its every little chug, chug, chug. I know. That makes me type A in the worst way. Tell me about it. Maybe sometime I'll tell you about how when other people are in charge of something and won't listen to my better ideas it makes me want to bang my head on the table and fling daggers at their forehead. Or something like that. Eh.
Several people have asked me who's going to take care of my kids while I'm gone. I guess they think my husband got sucked into outer space. I'm all, Duh. Then I'm all, Man, are my kids going to be late for everything and completely mismatched for the next two weeks. In hopes of avoiding any major mishaps, I briefed the newest Kindergartner tonight on the calendar of events for the next two weeks including important things like, "Tell Daddy to wash your hair that night because they're taking spring pictures the next day at school."
While work related training is still considered work in the sense that you get paid to sit on your butt while you're there, the truth is it's practically a two week vacation at a spa for me. Nice hotel. No cooking or cleaning. No screaming children or annoying dogs to wake you up. Yup. Vacation. I plan to take hot bubble baths, paint my toe nails, and generally goof off every night. I hear there are outlet malls in the vicinity of the training center too. Me and my credit card plan to find out. Holla.
Besides missing the sight of my babies' faces, I will also be in serious DVR withdrawal. For example, what if I don't get back from dinner Monday night in time to catch all of The Bachelor finale. And what the hell am I supposed to do during commercial if I can't fast forward? I can't very well channel surf. What if I miss crazy Deanna finally coming back to jack around with Jason's emotions? Also, what if I miss the big excitement on the After the Rose show? Speaking of which, what's that about? Seriously, what could possibly be such a big deal they can't have a live audience?
One of my friends is convinced it's because he picks Deanna. Dude's a twit but tell me he's not that big a twit. Right? Maybe? Someone else thinks he's going to propose to Melissa and then change his mind and switch to Molly during the After the Rose show. I think that would actually be worse than the dude that decided not to pick either girl. Because, really, couldn't we all sort of understand that guy deciding that maybe just maybe a stupid reality dating show didn't produce a girl he really wanted to be with after a mere six weeks? But just swapping girls is lame. How much could you really love either of them if you can do that?
I know. You can't believe I care this much about such a stupid show. Join the club. I'm the president.
Anyway, I'm going DVR-less for two weeks is my point. Hopefully not internet-less though. Because I have my new best friend, Blackberry, and I hear I'll have access to some crazy thing called "a computer lab." I know! It'll be like reliving my freshman year of college! Well, as long as there are creepy guys in there staying up all night playing online Dungeons and Dragons style role playing games. Because, nothing says college to me like the dude that skips his calculus final because he got ambushed by a band of orcs and he had to raise 500 gold to get his poisoned wizard healed.
But just in case my internet access isn't great, I decided to be a total lemming and join Twitter. I even added it to my sidebar under the Flickr pictures. Now I can't wait to get started flushing extra time down the toilet everyday! Yeah! Mid meeting twittering here I come!
2.28.2009
2.22.2009
When in doubt, lock yourself in the bathroom and regroup
My husband had to leave suddenly on a business trip Thursday night. Suddenly is always a fun way for a spouse to depart. It often includes a sink full of dishes and a laundry backlog for you to take care of while they are gone. Oh, the joy.
The children and the dogs have been doing their best to make the first three days of his trip extra challenging too. Sleep deprivation being their modus operandi. They've been triple teaming me to ensure I don't get more than two hours of sleep in a row.
My three year old's plan of attack has been an ongoing debate about whether or not he should sleep in his bed. Not necessarily at bedtime either. Sometimes that's a concern that doesn't hit him until 2 am. One time we even got to debate it twice in one night.
He's usually good for a solid hour of debating. I tend to go with pleading and back patting whereas he opts for tears and irrational statements. By the time we're done, the newest Kindergartner is awake. And if she's awake, by golly, she's going to need to point it out. And by then the dogs are awake too and then they're waking up the three year old I just got to sleep. One time they did it by growling and wrestling around in the hall outside his door. Another time they decided to be more efficient and just go in and lick his face. Perfect.
My personal favorite though is the periodic wake up calls throughout the night by our three dogs wanting to go out. My husband can't figure out why they only do this when he's out of town. I can't figure out why he can't figure that out.
He claims they'll go back to sleep if I just ignore them. Except I'm sort of unclear how I'm supposed to ignore a 40 pound dog repeatedly springing off and on the bed and thegiant pony puppy moaning next to my face. So I drag myself up and let them out. Several minutes after I lay back down and generally right as I'm about to fall back to sleep, I hear the scratching at the door signaling they're ready to come in. But here's where it gets good. Because when I get to the door, it's really only one of them that's ready to come back in. The other one is still partying the night away.
I know what you're thinking. Just tell the other dog to get his butt in the house and be done with it. But yelling and standing in the open door with the cold air coming in is not conducive to falling right back to sleep. In fact, it pretty much guarantees I'll be awake for another hour. So I leave that rogue party animal outside and pray that he'll decide he likes it out there so much he never wants to come back in again. And then I lay back down until he's ready to come back in five minutes later. Generally right as I'm about to fall back asleep again.
Three times getting up and out of bed just for one trip outside makes me want to throttle them. And it happens at least twice a night. It's awesome. Last night before bed when I pictured them waking me up again, I couldn't decide if I would just scream obscenities at them from afar or if I'd feel the need to wrestle their leaping bodies to the ground and hiss at them face to face.
I hope I never get captured by enemy troops and subjected to sleep deprivation torture. Not that I know anything you'd need to torture me to get me to tell you. But if I did, no one needs to be under the illusion that I'd be able to hold out. I'd sell my own mother down the river by the second night because I am inescapably weak and pathetic when I'm exhausted.
Yesterday was actually the roughest. Today I actually resemble a human. Yesterday, not so much. Unless crabby and shrieky are what you look for in a human. The bad part is that a crabby and shrieky mother tends to lead to weepy and whiny children and next thing you know it's a vicious cycle. At one point I locked myself in the bathroom to regroup. After getting my second wind, I also successfully got everyone dressed and out the door to run errands by 4 pm. Way to be, crabby and shrieky me! Yeah!
Today, no one's dressed yet but I did get the dishes done and produced enough clean underwear to get everyone through the week. So it's been a successful day is what I'm saying. The wrecking crew is currently watching Mary Poppins. I had hoped it might buy me an hour alone but so far, I've had a pop in to discuss lip gloss and another pop in that required butt wiping. So I guess maybe it's not working. Eh. Semi alone's not bad. And neither are my kids. For example, even a crabby and shrieky mother can appreciate this:
They're princesses. Both of them. One of the many perks of having a big sister is that she can dress you up in heels and teach you how to pose like a super model. Lucky kid!
The children and the dogs have been doing their best to make the first three days of his trip extra challenging too. Sleep deprivation being their modus operandi. They've been triple teaming me to ensure I don't get more than two hours of sleep in a row.
My three year old's plan of attack has been an ongoing debate about whether or not he should sleep in his bed. Not necessarily at bedtime either. Sometimes that's a concern that doesn't hit him until 2 am. One time we even got to debate it twice in one night.
He's usually good for a solid hour of debating. I tend to go with pleading and back patting whereas he opts for tears and irrational statements. By the time we're done, the newest Kindergartner is awake. And if she's awake, by golly, she's going to need to point it out. And by then the dogs are awake too and then they're waking up the three year old I just got to sleep. One time they did it by growling and wrestling around in the hall outside his door. Another time they decided to be more efficient and just go in and lick his face. Perfect.
My personal favorite though is the periodic wake up calls throughout the night by our three dogs wanting to go out. My husband can't figure out why they only do this when he's out of town. I can't figure out why he can't figure that out.
He claims they'll go back to sleep if I just ignore them. Except I'm sort of unclear how I'm supposed to ignore a 40 pound dog repeatedly springing off and on the bed and the
I know what you're thinking. Just tell the other dog to get his butt in the house and be done with it. But yelling and standing in the open door with the cold air coming in is not conducive to falling right back to sleep. In fact, it pretty much guarantees I'll be awake for another hour. So I leave that rogue party animal outside and pray that he'll decide he likes it out there so much he never wants to come back in again. And then I lay back down until he's ready to come back in five minutes later. Generally right as I'm about to fall back asleep again.
Three times getting up and out of bed just for one trip outside makes me want to throttle them. And it happens at least twice a night. It's awesome. Last night before bed when I pictured them waking me up again, I couldn't decide if I would just scream obscenities at them from afar or if I'd feel the need to wrestle their leaping bodies to the ground and hiss at them face to face.
I hope I never get captured by enemy troops and subjected to sleep deprivation torture. Not that I know anything you'd need to torture me to get me to tell you. But if I did, no one needs to be under the illusion that I'd be able to hold out. I'd sell my own mother down the river by the second night because I am inescapably weak and pathetic when I'm exhausted.
Yesterday was actually the roughest. Today I actually resemble a human. Yesterday, not so much. Unless crabby and shrieky are what you look for in a human. The bad part is that a crabby and shrieky mother tends to lead to weepy and whiny children and next thing you know it's a vicious cycle. At one point I locked myself in the bathroom to regroup. After getting my second wind, I also successfully got everyone dressed and out the door to run errands by 4 pm. Way to be, crabby and shrieky me! Yeah!
Today, no one's dressed yet but I did get the dishes done and produced enough clean underwear to get everyone through the week. So it's been a successful day is what I'm saying. The wrecking crew is currently watching Mary Poppins. I had hoped it might buy me an hour alone but so far, I've had a pop in to discuss lip gloss and another pop in that required butt wiping. So I guess maybe it's not working. Eh. Semi alone's not bad. And neither are my kids. For example, even a crabby and shrieky mother can appreciate this:
They're princesses. Both of them. One of the many perks of having a big sister is that she can dress you up in heels and teach you how to pose like a super model. Lucky kid!
2.16.2009
Valentine's Day the "Two small children and no babysitter" Way
My husband and I did Valentine's Day the "two small children and no babysitter" way. We went out to dinner Friday night to avoid the crowds with our two small children in tow. I think we may have gotten to the restaurant at 5:30 too. Feel the romance.
On Valentine's Day, we decided to exit the house with the children. We'd been trying to make it to the zoo for like a month. The weather kept toying with us though. The day the weather was perfect we didn't realize it was going to be that perfect until mid afternoon. The next weekend we had everyone dressed and walking out the door only to realize it was drizzling and overcast. This weekend when it was kind of chilly I let my husband convince me that it would warm up when the sun came out and we piled into the car anyway. Except it didn't warm up. And he talked me out of the heavy winter coats. And it was an Arctic tundra.
On the plus side, no crowd. On the downside, my three year old was semi shivering while gripping the cold metal pole riding the merry go round. I know. Who gets on the merry go round when everyone's cold to begin with? I'll tell you who. Us. So there. We rode the train too. Because we laugh in the face of drippy noses and red cheeks. Those kids need to learn to toughen up anyway. They're lucky we don't make them walk uphill in the snow to get to the zoo, too.
After the zoo and lunch with my mom, we headed home and let the kids eat all the candy their hearts desired right up until our three year old began projectile puking all over the kitchen. While carrying the kid to the bathroom and aiming his face at the toilet, I did a fair amount of screaming. Not wenchy, "Get the hell in here and help me" screaming so much as "Holy guacamole the presence of vomit stresses me out" screaming.
My husband would like everyone to know the kid's fine and I completely overreacted. I would like everyone to know my husband once closed the bathroom door and went back to bed while I was throwing up. Okay, so now my husband would like everyone to know that has nothing to do with anything and, besides, he got me a glass of water and a washcloth and asked if I needed anything else before he closed the door. Furthermore, he'd like it noted for the record that it was five years ago and that even mentioning it is a violation of the statute of limitations on thoughtless spousal acts which everyone knows is three years tops. Whatever. I do not acknowledge that statute of limitations therefore it does not exist. But I digress.
So I flipped out a bit and the house smelled like puke and, lo, it was romantic day. Luckily, I've decided Valentine's Day is for the kids now anyway. Here they are with their bags full of valentines from school:
Seriously. Makes me remember covering a Kleenex box with construction paper as a kid. So sweet. Excuse me while I dab my eyes.
For anyone concerned about whether or not we wasted hours of our lives making homemade Valentines again this year, never fear. Pretending you're crafty is a terminal disease. Here's the card I made my husband with my own two hands:
And here's one of the cards I helped the newest Kindergartner make for her class:
The writing's hard to see because my copywriter opted for pencil after several typos. The pencils taped to the back were supposed to be inserted through little holes to make them look like arrows. But it's not like kids care about pencils anyway what with all the candy getting handed out so I decided oh well. And what's up my kid was the only kid in her class giving out homemade valentine's? What is the world coming to? Or perhaps a better question would be, how far into left field have I wandered? Oh, well. Here's my homemade valentine maker hard at work:
Before she clocked in for work, she had to prep the work stations by cutting out heart shaped name tags for everyone's chair:
Almost as wacky as the gift cards but cute. And when I sat in my husband's chair she actually got up and switched the name tags. I love that more than I should.
The night before my son's class party, I realized that we'd forgotten to make his class any. I'm an equal opportunity offender though. So if one kid's going to hand out raggedy homemade crap to her classmates I think we all know that other kids going to need some raggedy homemade crap to hand out too. So my husband and I temporarily swapped bodies and he led the crafting brigade. Dude's not into crafting so imagine my shock when he came up with a plan and did all the haphazard paper cutting and gluing. I tried to suggest tape but he explained that real men don't use scotch tape when they craft. They use old school white Elmers and they get it all over the table while they are doing it and that's just the price of doing business. Here he is cutting out the hearts:
Some ladies want a guy that'll bring you roses and chocolates. I say, hold out for a guy that's willing to craft homemade valentines for your kid. The three year old did his best to assist. That included assisting with gluing and trying to steal the scissors. Here's his finished product:
I like to think the black Sharpie writing across the front gives it that special "last minute thrown together 30 minutes before bedtime" look. The next day, I felt a little bad for not spending more time making them fabulous. Mostly I felt bad for not making his teacher a 2 carat diamond ring for Valentine's Day. Because she took the time to make me this:
It says, "My hand and my heart are yours!" She even laminated it. I know. The laminating was a nice "Hang it in your office until they graduate from college" touch. I plan to hang it next to his sister's hand prints and force them both to hold their hands up to them to see how big they've gotten every time they visit me at work. Then I'll blink away tears and tell them sappy stuff like how they're never allowed to leave me and how I'll die if they forget to call me. Should make for good times.
So, in summary, Valentine's Day weekend was pretty sweet but it smelled like vomit. I'm capping it off today with a day off from work. Paid holiday actually. But the kids still have school so it's a total freebie day for me. Holla. So far the highlight of my day off has been debating whether I should go shopping for shoes I don't need or go to the movies for the first time in 2009. Decisions, decisions!
On Valentine's Day, we decided to exit the house with the children. We'd been trying to make it to the zoo for like a month. The weather kept toying with us though. The day the weather was perfect we didn't realize it was going to be that perfect until mid afternoon. The next weekend we had everyone dressed and walking out the door only to realize it was drizzling and overcast. This weekend when it was kind of chilly I let my husband convince me that it would warm up when the sun came out and we piled into the car anyway. Except it didn't warm up. And he talked me out of the heavy winter coats. And it was an Arctic tundra.
On the plus side, no crowd. On the downside, my three year old was semi shivering while gripping the cold metal pole riding the merry go round. I know. Who gets on the merry go round when everyone's cold to begin with? I'll tell you who. Us. So there. We rode the train too. Because we laugh in the face of drippy noses and red cheeks. Those kids need to learn to toughen up anyway. They're lucky we don't make them walk uphill in the snow to get to the zoo, too.
After the zoo and lunch with my mom, we headed home and let the kids eat all the candy their hearts desired right up until our three year old began projectile puking all over the kitchen. While carrying the kid to the bathroom and aiming his face at the toilet, I did a fair amount of screaming. Not wenchy, "Get the hell in here and help me" screaming so much as "Holy guacamole the presence of vomit stresses me out" screaming.
My husband would like everyone to know the kid's fine and I completely overreacted. I would like everyone to know my husband once closed the bathroom door and went back to bed while I was throwing up. Okay, so now my husband would like everyone to know that has nothing to do with anything and, besides, he got me a glass of water and a washcloth and asked if I needed anything else before he closed the door. Furthermore, he'd like it noted for the record that it was five years ago and that even mentioning it is a violation of the statute of limitations on thoughtless spousal acts which everyone knows is three years tops. Whatever. I do not acknowledge that statute of limitations therefore it does not exist. But I digress.
So I flipped out a bit and the house smelled like puke and, lo, it was romantic day. Luckily, I've decided Valentine's Day is for the kids now anyway. Here they are with their bags full of valentines from school:
Seriously. Makes me remember covering a Kleenex box with construction paper as a kid. So sweet. Excuse me while I dab my eyes.
For anyone concerned about whether or not we wasted hours of our lives making homemade Valentines again this year, never fear. Pretending you're crafty is a terminal disease. Here's the card I made my husband with my own two hands:
And here's one of the cards I helped the newest Kindergartner make for her class:
The writing's hard to see because my copywriter opted for pencil after several typos. The pencils taped to the back were supposed to be inserted through little holes to make them look like arrows. But it's not like kids care about pencils anyway what with all the candy getting handed out so I decided oh well. And what's up my kid was the only kid in her class giving out homemade valentine's? What is the world coming to? Or perhaps a better question would be, how far into left field have I wandered? Oh, well. Here's my homemade valentine maker hard at work:
Before she clocked in for work, she had to prep the work stations by cutting out heart shaped name tags for everyone's chair:
Almost as wacky as the gift cards but cute. And when I sat in my husband's chair she actually got up and switched the name tags. I love that more than I should.
The night before my son's class party, I realized that we'd forgotten to make his class any. I'm an equal opportunity offender though. So if one kid's going to hand out raggedy homemade crap to her classmates I think we all know that other kids going to need some raggedy homemade crap to hand out too. So my husband and I temporarily swapped bodies and he led the crafting brigade. Dude's not into crafting so imagine my shock when he came up with a plan and did all the haphazard paper cutting and gluing. I tried to suggest tape but he explained that real men don't use scotch tape when they craft. They use old school white Elmers and they get it all over the table while they are doing it and that's just the price of doing business. Here he is cutting out the hearts:
Some ladies want a guy that'll bring you roses and chocolates. I say, hold out for a guy that's willing to craft homemade valentines for your kid. The three year old did his best to assist. That included assisting with gluing and trying to steal the scissors. Here's his finished product:
I like to think the black Sharpie writing across the front gives it that special "last minute thrown together 30 minutes before bedtime" look. The next day, I felt a little bad for not spending more time making them fabulous. Mostly I felt bad for not making his teacher a 2 carat diamond ring for Valentine's Day. Because she took the time to make me this:
It says, "My hand and my heart are yours!" She even laminated it. I know. The laminating was a nice "Hang it in your office until they graduate from college" touch. I plan to hang it next to his sister's hand prints and force them both to hold their hands up to them to see how big they've gotten every time they visit me at work. Then I'll blink away tears and tell them sappy stuff like how they're never allowed to leave me and how I'll die if they forget to call me. Should make for good times.
So, in summary, Valentine's Day weekend was pretty sweet but it smelled like vomit. I'm capping it off today with a day off from work. Paid holiday actually. But the kids still have school so it's a total freebie day for me. Holla. So far the highlight of my day off has been debating whether I should go shopping for shoes I don't need or go to the movies for the first time in 2009. Decisions, decisions!
2.06.2009
Fifteen facts to make your Friday complete
1. My mother is concerned that my readers, all 3 of them not counting her, will think she's nuts for being concerned about the quality of the easel she bought our children. Specifically, she will have you know it got a measly three star rating on the Toys R Us website and several reviews mentioned structural issues. So there. She didn't mention it in her email but I'm pretty sure she'd also like the Internet to know that only ungrateful, good for nothing children make fun of their mother's gifts on their blog.
2. Yes, those were in fact gun range targets my babies were drawing on. But don’t worry. We rarely if ever conduct shooting practice in our living room. We have them because my husband’s job requires him to have a gun. Periodically his employer even requires him to take it to a gun range and prove he can hit the broad side of a barn. I’m told he’s actually very good at hitting the head of a pin. I’m sure he could bore the universe with further details but I sadly know nothing. Nothing except that the old papers work great on the easel until I can get myself to a craft store.
3. I found our newgiant pony puppy’s long lost twin! Except for the eyes I guess. Next time we get a lab, I totally need to find out where to sign up to get one with a pretty blue eye.
4. My husband walked by the newest Kindergartner's room while she was playing. It was messy so he asked her what happened in there. She told him, “Just go away.” Too bad she didn’t slam her bedroom door and lock it too while she was at it. That combined with this recent picture I took of her and I figure we know exactly what to expect when she turns 16:
5. I have listened to 80s classic “Heat of the Moment” by Asia at least 26 times in the last 5 days. I’m concerned that I’m addicted to driving while listening to the opening verse.
6. I’m concerned that Jason is going to pick Melissa not Molly on The Bachelor.
7. I’m concerned about the fact that I’m concerned about Jason potentially picking Melissa not Molly because it's a stupid show and none of the couples stay together anyway so what does it matter.
8. Except, dude, how sweet and charming does Molly seem and he spent the night with her in the tent and he thinks she's the best kisser and how could anyone not pick her after all that. And seriously, when the hell is Deanna finally coming back. Not that he should get back with her because, dude, she let him get down on one knee and then stone cold dumped him and claimed she was going to be with that other dude forever and he'd have to be a twit to spend even a moment torn between her and anyone else but this is The Bachelor and we all know he will in fact spend many moments torn on the issue so we can, in fact, conclude that he must be a twit.
9. See why I'm concerned. Way to many thoughts on such a stupid show. I know.
10. My husband got coffee at McDonald’s last weekend. They either jacked up his order or used the same pot to make his coffee that they use to make tea. From two feet away with a lid on it, I knew it was tea. Because my gag reflex momentarily kicked in. When I say I can’t stand tea, I really mean I can’t stand tea.
11. We hit the Outback for dinner tonight because nothing screams "Let's not do dishes tonight" like Friday. The kids decided they wanted to sit on the other side of the booth together for a change. We so rarely go anywhere without the kids that sitting on the same side of the booth almost felt like a date.
12. In fact I may or may not have forced some mandatory cuddling on my husband right there in the booth.
13. And the waiter may or may not have arrived with our salads just as my husband was attempting to wrestle away from my cuddling clutches. And since the entire restaurant probably thought we were insane by then, we may or may not have held our napkins up in front of us like a curtain to pretend we really were alone. And the newest Kindergartner may or may not have served as a buzz kill announcing that she could hear everything we were saying during our pretend candle light dinner on the other side of the pretend curtain.
14. The writers on that show Damages are very talented. Just when I was starting to lose a little interest they’ve sucked me back in. I can’t decide who killed that wife. I also can’t decide if the husband’s a good actor, a scumbag, an innocent victim or maybe a little of each.
15. Since watching the post Super Bowl episode of The Office, I've been torturing my husband every night before bed asking him to describe how he feels when I walk in the room. Sometimes I like to conduct practical exercises by actually entering a room and then quizzing him on his feelings at the exact moment he saw me. I know. You wish you could be married to me. Sorry. Taken.
2. Yes, those were in fact gun range targets my babies were drawing on. But don’t worry. We rarely if ever conduct shooting practice in our living room. We have them because my husband’s job requires him to have a gun. Periodically his employer even requires him to take it to a gun range and prove he can hit the broad side of a barn. I’m told he’s actually very good at hitting the head of a pin. I’m sure he could bore the universe with further details but I sadly know nothing. Nothing except that the old papers work great on the easel until I can get myself to a craft store.
3. I found our new
4. My husband walked by the newest Kindergartner's room while she was playing. It was messy so he asked her what happened in there. She told him, “Just go away.” Too bad she didn’t slam her bedroom door and lock it too while she was at it. That combined with this recent picture I took of her and I figure we know exactly what to expect when she turns 16:
5. I have listened to 80s classic “Heat of the Moment” by Asia at least 26 times in the last 5 days. I’m concerned that I’m addicted to driving while listening to the opening verse.
6. I’m concerned that Jason is going to pick Melissa not Molly on The Bachelor.
7. I’m concerned about the fact that I’m concerned about Jason potentially picking Melissa not Molly because it's a stupid show and none of the couples stay together anyway so what does it matter.
8. Except, dude, how sweet and charming does Molly seem and he spent the night with her in the tent and he thinks she's the best kisser and how could anyone not pick her after all that. And seriously, when the hell is Deanna finally coming back. Not that he should get back with her because, dude, she let him get down on one knee and then stone cold dumped him and claimed she was going to be with that other dude forever and he'd have to be a twit to spend even a moment torn between her and anyone else but this is The Bachelor and we all know he will in fact spend many moments torn on the issue so we can, in fact, conclude that he must be a twit.
9. See why I'm concerned. Way to many thoughts on such a stupid show. I know.
10. My husband got coffee at McDonald’s last weekend. They either jacked up his order or used the same pot to make his coffee that they use to make tea. From two feet away with a lid on it, I knew it was tea. Because my gag reflex momentarily kicked in. When I say I can’t stand tea, I really mean I can’t stand tea.
11. We hit the Outback for dinner tonight because nothing screams "Let's not do dishes tonight" like Friday. The kids decided they wanted to sit on the other side of the booth together for a change. We so rarely go anywhere without the kids that sitting on the same side of the booth almost felt like a date.
12. In fact I may or may not have forced some mandatory cuddling on my husband right there in the booth.
13. And the waiter may or may not have arrived with our salads just as my husband was attempting to wrestle away from my cuddling clutches. And since the entire restaurant probably thought we were insane by then, we may or may not have held our napkins up in front of us like a curtain to pretend we really were alone. And the newest Kindergartner may or may not have served as a buzz kill announcing that she could hear everything we were saying during our pretend candle light dinner on the other side of the pretend curtain.
14. The writers on that show Damages are very talented. Just when I was starting to lose a little interest they’ve sucked me back in. I can’t decide who killed that wife. I also can’t decide if the husband’s a good actor, a scumbag, an innocent victim or maybe a little of each.
15. Since watching the post Super Bowl episode of The Office, I've been torturing my husband every night before bed asking him to describe how he feels when I walk in the room. Sometimes I like to conduct practical exercises by actually entering a room and then quizzing him on his feelings at the exact moment he saw me. I know. You wish you could be married to me. Sorry. Taken.
2.04.2009
First class all the way
Over the weekend, we finally assembled the easel my mother bought our kids for Christmas. She'd brought it over several weeks before Christmas wanting my husband to reinforce the wood after she'd read a bunch of reviews online that said it falls over and breaks easily. I guess she was hesitant about giving her grandchildren such a ticking time bomb. Naturally, we did what any good parent would do and hid it in the garage and immediately forgot about it.
We discovered it while cleaning and decided that if it falls and breaks we'll reinforce it then. For everyone that's playing along at home, that's called very, very lazy. Here's the potential death trap in our living room:
What with the giant plastic house, the play kitchen, two nylon tunnels and 347 assorted toys, we figure what's an easel. And the kids love it. I define love it by how many minutes they are capable of playing with it before an adult has to get up and find out why someone is crying. In this case, over an hour. Worth every penny she paid. Here's the newest Kindergartner trying out for Russell Crowe's part in A Beautiful Mind:
And here's her brother attempting to destroy the dry erase board side by refusing to listen to me when I tell him to stop drawing on it with the wrong kind of markers:
Nothing warms a mother's heart more than her child attempting to destroy a perfectly good toy. Thankfully, we're firmly entrenched in the "Washable Markers Only" camp and they wipe right off with Windex. Way to be, Crayola. Way to be. Now if I can just remember to buy them a giant roll of butcher paper to draw on we'll be all set. In the meantime, we're improvising:
Classy. That's us.
We discovered it while cleaning and decided that if it falls and breaks we'll reinforce it then. For everyone that's playing along at home, that's called very, very lazy. Here's the potential death trap in our living room:
What with the giant plastic house, the play kitchen, two nylon tunnels and 347 assorted toys, we figure what's an easel. And the kids love it. I define love it by how many minutes they are capable of playing with it before an adult has to get up and find out why someone is crying. In this case, over an hour. Worth every penny she paid. Here's the newest Kindergartner trying out for Russell Crowe's part in A Beautiful Mind:
And here's her brother attempting to destroy the dry erase board side by refusing to listen to me when I tell him to stop drawing on it with the wrong kind of markers:
Nothing warms a mother's heart more than her child attempting to destroy a perfectly good toy. Thankfully, we're firmly entrenched in the "Washable Markers Only" camp and they wipe right off with Windex. Way to be, Crayola. Way to be. Now if I can just remember to buy them a giant roll of butcher paper to draw on we'll be all set. In the meantime, we're improvising:
Classy. That's us.
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