Three more days until my wife comes back home. You guys, these are the things we are going through:
–We ate tacos with our fingers as I had forgotten forks, was too exhausted to get up, and RR broke the one shell we had between us.
–She wants to watch Yeap Fwog. NO the one with the FWOG and the GWEEN PUPPY and NOT THAT ONE. They all say Leap Frog. I have no idea what I’m doing wrong.
–The dog licked her and she has milk on her sock. That’s why she is jumping from the ottoman to the couch.
–WHY DID I MOVE THE OTTOMAN???
–It’s okay, Mama, Mama will be home and put it back.
–What day is it? It’s Tuesday. What day is it? It’s Wednesday. What day is it? It’s Thursday. I’ll bet I can guess what she’ll ask tomorrow.
–We have listened to Elton John’s Crocodile Rock at least 50 times. Funny how in three years I’ve never gotten sick of her children’s music but in 3.5 seconds I wish old Elton had got crushed under the tire. Accidentally.
–I hit my head three times on the roof of the car today. I nearly passed out the second time. Oh that’s right, RR had hold of my boob when I jerked backward. A) why is she tugging on it in the first place? and B) and boys think they have the corner market on pain…
–She misses Grannie and Pop Pop and talks about them coming home constantly. When I told her they were moving to their house she looked me right in the face and wailed, NO THEY AREN’T! THEY ARE COMING HOME TO ME and then she threw her milk at my head.
–We spend a lot of time scolding my parents’ dog, Donx. Where “a lot of time” means constantly and “scolding” means practically yelling.
I came into her room to get her pants and found her not in the living room where I thought she was but standing on her rocking chair in the middle of the room balancing on one leg. Naked. I’m on the BEANS BALANCE, mama! I am so strong!
And despite the extremely helpful volunteering from our friends (hi starrhillgirl!), I’m too tired to even conceive of how they could be helpful. It’s just us, doing what we do (naked, apparently), with five cats and 2 dogs – 3 if you count my parents’ as double the work. Having anyone over would be a disaster (see: Donx) and I don’t have the energy to leave the house or to cook for anyone but myself. Also, we’re apparently cave people who can’t use silverware.
The lovely person at Love Invents Us was ruminating over being more gentle with oneself and that is definitely something I’m not able to do alone. Sure, with my wife, I’m a superhero at eating ice cream for dinner and letting the socks lay on the floor where RR threw them. But alone I can’t rest until the chores are done, the kitchen is sparkling (even after the horrible Donx splattered mud on the ceiling…AGAIN), the animals are taken care of, the laundry is put away, and our bags are packed for the upcoming day. I also can’t order pizza like I assume would be normal because I suddenly realize that I’m in control of everything and so, I, too, will be sparkling clean and healthy, just like the kitchen.
What’s wrong with me? I need my wife to come home so RR and I can get back to our slovenly ways.
PS – Excellent recipes: