The party was a house party, and the invitation clearly stated to bring your children if you were unable to find childcare. I actually considered doing this for about 20 ill-advised minutes. Then I remembered, when my children are present, especially around other people whom may or may not find them annoying, I am extremely distracted. I try to have adults conversations- you know the two-way kind that involve listening and answering- but I fail. Instead, I constantly have one eye on Thing 1 and am usually holding a loudly babbling, often screeching, Thing 2 on my hip. Because of the remarkable volume of my sweet Thing 2, I can't actually hear the other adult, so I just participate with a series of nods, fake smiles and blank stares. Because those things usually fool people into thinking you are a magnanimous being of wonder, wisdom and wit.
At a party where I know no one but the host and hostess, I would be constantly trying, and failing, to make new friends. It all seemed like a lot of effort and make-up for poor results. So, as much as I would have LOVED to make myself look pretty and go to a New Year's Eve party with my husband, we chose to put Thing 2 to bed at 7:15 (his normal bedtime), pop some popcorn, crawl into our pj's, snuggle into our king sized bed with Thing 1 between us and watch "The Rookie". It was actually a really great evening, until Thing 1 fell asleep and whacked my husband hard, right across the bridge of his nose. Don't underestimate the power behind a sleeping, flailing preschooler. After my initial giggle fit, I actually felt sorry for my hub. Until today.
I do 97% of the snow shoveling around here. Not because I want to, but because my husband apparently thinks that shoveling snow is some sort of "optional" home maintenance. Even when he does shovel, he neglects the front door- you know- the one that the guests use. It snowed three days ago. My good friends from Montana were here with us. They were both fighting really nasty colds. Thing 1 and I went out and shoveled (he got his own snow shovel from my parents, who are big into child labor). Even with a severe cold, my friend's husband, Tim, soon was dressed and out the door to help. Thing 1 was was turning into a Popsicle, so I took him in and made a big batch of hot cocoa. While I was doing that, I noticed Tim going the extra mile with the snow removal. He was using a broom and shaking out dog beds, people. I love him.
Thanks to more accumulation, our lovely wind gusts and the single digit temperatures that we have been enjoying here in Colorado, we had a nice crusty level of packed snow back on the front porch today.
I was out with my husband earlier and said, very nicely I might add, "This winter, if you could just be in charge of all snow removal, starting today, I would be eternally grateful."
He replied, "Okay!".
I paused for a few seconds and said, "Please know that I include the front porch in the snow removal, and not just a path to the door, but the whole thing." The front porch is tiny- like 8' x 10', at best.
He said, "Okay".
I then thought to myself,"We'll see.."
I don't mean to be a pessimist folks, but my husband is a creature of habit. First of all, he CANNOT put away yard tools when he is finished using them. So, as much I appreciate the work he does, the kudos I want to give him get overrun by the irritation I feel from having to go on a treasure hunt around the yard to find discarded (expensive!) tools in the grass, shoved into tree branches or bushes, or casually leaning against the tree trunks. Essentially, no matter what he does, I am the clean up committee. Good thing that I don't spend all of my day, every day, cleaning up after people, or I might feel downright angered by this. Secondly, I should have said, "Grunt! Man removes ALL the fucking snow! Grunt!" and left it at that. Instead, I chose to elaborate, which I am pretty sure he heard as a droning sound like "wa wa... fleener neener neener.... shovel ...WA wawa...grateful". And last but not least, the reason that I don't want to remove the snow is because I was worked like a boy my entire childhood and I am NOT A BOY! I'm a princess... at least that is what Thing 1 tells me when I am wearing a dress. "Mommy! You're a PRINCESS!", he says. I respond, "Yes, my darling. Yes I am."
This is what I discovered when I looked outside to see his efforts at snow removal.
|All snow cleared? Nope.|
Two shovels put away? Nope.
This could be a long winter.