Who doesn't love a good monday morning? Oh wait, there's no such thing! Today I am a sleep-deprived, overly caffeinated, stressed out woman with no air conditioning in the office. I am a few steps away from going completely insane.
It all started at about 1:30 am with "mommy. MOMMY. MOM-E!" I opened my eyes to see my four year old, morning breath and all, RIGHT in my face. "You didn't bring my blankets in. You PROMISED!"
I opened 1 eye, grabbed her cold little hand and steered her back to bed, showed her the damn blankets that she didn't see 'cause I don't know, it was DARK in her room? I tucked her in and stumbled back to bed.
3am: "Mommy. MOMMY. MOM-E! Can I sleep with you?" I did a no-no, I let her climb up in bed and promptly passed out. Fast forward to 6:15am with Mark shoving me out of bed with his foot, deftly avoiding our sleeping daughter who, of course, had personally commanded 75% of the real estate available on our mattress.
Then I came to work, our sprinklers are broken and the grass is dying, the septic tank was malfunctioning (a $300 repair bill) and no air conditioning and it is as hot & muggy as I have ever experienced in this town.
Last summer I worked somewhere with air conditioning, and often thought, "Amazing how cold hell can be" and here I am in my new job, in the heat and while I would most likely not go back to the air conditioned office of my previous employer, I certainly do have a sense of how hot hell can really be.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
Healing the sick
Tell me how it is that as mothers we can be sicker than sick (and I mean not even able to stand up straight and keep food down sick) and still somehow manage to 1) care for ourselves, 2) fold laundry, and 3) attend to children? And when our husbands fall ill, we wait on them hand and foot?
Honestly. Please someone explain this phenomenon to me. Of course after I had the flu my husband had the nerve to get sick too, damn him anyway. But THEN he was so funny about it.
"Can you turn the baby monitor off for me please" (he needed to scoot or roll over like a foot). "Can you bring me some toast?" (I got my own food thank you very much). "Will you take my clothes off for me?" which he had to be out of his mind, because you and I both know that as soon as I got to his pants he would get a boner, raise his eyebrows a couple of times and say, "So while you're down there......" AS IF! EW!
When I'm sick I can't even think about brushing my own teeth, let alone getting it on. How can he be incapable of getting a frickin' glass of water and yet has the energy to have sex? It doesn't add up folks. I wonder, could he have been breast fed too long, or toilet trained to early? There HAS to be a reason for this.
Honestly. Please someone explain this phenomenon to me. Of course after I had the flu my husband had the nerve to get sick too, damn him anyway. But THEN he was so funny about it.
"Can you turn the baby monitor off for me please" (he needed to scoot or roll over like a foot). "Can you bring me some toast?" (I got my own food thank you very much). "Will you take my clothes off for me?" which he had to be out of his mind, because you and I both know that as soon as I got to his pants he would get a boner, raise his eyebrows a couple of times and say, "So while you're down there......" AS IF! EW!
When I'm sick I can't even think about brushing my own teeth, let alone getting it on. How can he be incapable of getting a frickin' glass of water and yet has the energy to have sex? It doesn't add up folks. I wonder, could he have been breast fed too long, or toilet trained to early? There HAS to be a reason for this.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
I am an enabler
Is there a support group out there, kind of like Alcoholics Anonymous, just for enablers? Hi, my name is Amy and I am an enabler. The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. There is tremendous wisdom in that.
So, here's the situation. It is entirely impossible to get the kids ready and out of the house on time. EVER. Because of this, we tend to "help" our children get ready, particularly the older one because while she is capable, she isn't exactly willing. It boils down to getting to work on time OR allowing her to get herself ready. You do the math.
Monday mornings are particularly rough, as was this past Monday. I spent the better part of the morning puking and squirting poop while my husband (bless him) tried to wrangle the hoodlums and get them out the door. In between leaking from both ends I laid on the floor with my pants down (I cut off circulation to my hands bending over on the toilet so I couldn't even pull my pants up) and I could hear the crying, carrying on, fussing, and that was just my husband.
I finally pulled myself together and wandered out of the bathroom hunched over just in time to hear my husband telling Kaylee (VERY firmly) that she is FOUR YEARS OLD. AND FOUR YEAR OLDS CAN GET THEMSELVES READY FOR SCHOOL. Basically, he issued an ultimatum that she's responsible for doing it all and whatever she doesn't get done is how she goes to school. End of story. I was also reprimanded for enabling. Which I deserved.
In any case, this tactic appears to have worked. Tuesday morning was like a dream. She willingly fed herself (yes, she's four and I should be ashamed at this point), dressed herself, brushed her teeth and even attempted her hair! I couldn't believe it. Yesterday, more of the same.
Today, we started over again. Crap. Now what, the age old parental tactic of bribery? We'll see...
So, here's the situation. It is entirely impossible to get the kids ready and out of the house on time. EVER. Because of this, we tend to "help" our children get ready, particularly the older one because while she is capable, she isn't exactly willing. It boils down to getting to work on time OR allowing her to get herself ready. You do the math.
Monday mornings are particularly rough, as was this past Monday. I spent the better part of the morning puking and squirting poop while my husband (bless him) tried to wrangle the hoodlums and get them out the door. In between leaking from both ends I laid on the floor with my pants down (I cut off circulation to my hands bending over on the toilet so I couldn't even pull my pants up) and I could hear the crying, carrying on, fussing, and that was just my husband.
I finally pulled myself together and wandered out of the bathroom hunched over just in time to hear my husband telling Kaylee (VERY firmly) that she is FOUR YEARS OLD. AND FOUR YEAR OLDS CAN GET THEMSELVES READY FOR SCHOOL. Basically, he issued an ultimatum that she's responsible for doing it all and whatever she doesn't get done is how she goes to school. End of story. I was also reprimanded for enabling. Which I deserved.
In any case, this tactic appears to have worked. Tuesday morning was like a dream. She willingly fed herself (yes, she's four and I should be ashamed at this point), dressed herself, brushed her teeth and even attempted her hair! I couldn't believe it. Yesterday, more of the same.
Today, we started over again. Crap. Now what, the age old parental tactic of bribery? We'll see...
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