Saturday, July 21, 2012

Just another Saturday night with Father Time and Bursitis

After a long day of laundry, cleaning house, a failed naptime for the Things, more laundry, the splash park, cooking and dancing around the house like a tween with Pandora radio blasting into my headphones managing my other important daily tasks, I just wanted to relax in Eleanor with a glass of wine and a movie. Instead, I found myself staring at the pile of sheets and comforters that the Things had carefully and methodically smeared with diaper ointment during their failed naptime and wondering when the day would end.

At least their room now smells of lavender, making one think that I am a doting, tireless mother who dabbles in aromatherapy, gives my wee ones aura massages and let's them collect Satan's Spawn reptiles to keep as pets. The kind of committed mother who would eat the placenta, make a sock monkey, then rock her children to sleep whilst singing BPA free lullabies instead of snarling "GO TO SLEEP or I'm taking your toys away!", then putting on headphones to dance around the house and ignore the sound of said toys being slammed into the wall and the accompanying manic laughter and shrieking that tend to occur behind the closed door at "naptime".

But to my credit, Brock and I were doing a stellar job this evening with our tag team parenting, as we cleaned the boys room and prepared them for Now Go The F*** to Sleep sweet, sweet dreamland. Then I pulled out some fresh (non diaper ointment smeared) sheets and leaned over Thing 1's twin bed, which is jammed against a wall, to put the fitted sheet on the far corner of the mattress. As soon as I did this, I groaned in agony from the searing pain that projected from the trash heap that is also known as my my lower back/hip area- because I'm apparently 176 years old and in need of a walker, Boniva and a large slathering of Aspercreme.

Brock noticed my guttural cry for help and kindly said, "Here- let me do that.", as he reached for the sheets.

As I pulled myself back up to a semi-upright position, I shamefully said to Brock, who is 10 years my senior, "I'm sorry. I know you thought that you were getting some sort of a prize when you picked me."

Brock replied, "IIIIIIIiiiiiii.... er.... yeah. That's why I never gamble. I'm just not good at it."

I couldn't even pretend to not hear him as I was searching for my ear horn because I was laughing too hard.

And that is how we roll on a Saturday night. So if you'll excuse me, it's now movie time. By the sound of the cheesy theme music, Brock has chosen yet another ancient western flick; meaning that I now have time to look at facebook and focus some attention to that callous on my foot.

How do you spend your Saturday nights? Tell me please, so that Brock and I may live vicariously through you.

Peace, Love and lavender butt goo,
Johi



14 comments:

  1. I was in bed with 2 DVDs, a large block of whitakers Ghana dark peppermint chocolate & a giant box of tissues. 2 sheets of which were rammed permanently up each nostril. I watched a movie called 50/50 about a dude who got spinal cancer. It made me cry. My Saturday night was awesome x

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    1. I watched that movie and cried too, but without the tissue rammed up my nostrils. My bestie beat cancer twice. Fuck cancer.

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  2. I had an AMAZING and EXCITING Saturday night... I finished a commission piece, and drank Orange Tangerine Zinger while practicing my ukulele. I went to bed at 10:30. I am on crazy girl!

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    1. Actually finishing a piece of art would be cause for a party at my house because it so rarely happens! I love Orange tangerine Zinger tea.

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  3. Well, I'm on vacation, so my Saturday night was full of excitement . . . I got to scrub down the counters in my condo because the cleaners left crumbs and hairs all over the place when they did they're brief once over, then I got to unpack everything, make all the beds, throw all the comforters in the wash, put away all the groceries and make dinner for the boys. I am fancy.

    The good news at least was that after dinner we walked around and visited all of our other family members at their condos right near us and I was handed a fun beverage at every stop. So, that was at least a nice end to the night. ;)

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    1. Ewwww. Other people's hair! Gag! You ARE fancy!

      Drinking is good. I am currently rehabilitating my liver in preparation for NY. :)

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  4. Ha! That sounds like something I would say. Only it would probably be on the first date.....while hammered.....and trying to convince the bartender that by no means are me and whatshisface serious.

    Which would explain why the majority of my relationships are over before they begin...

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    1. You are such a Klassy broad. I think that this is why I know we would be fast friends.

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  5. My Saturday night was spent driving 13 hours in the car to the inlaws, chugging coffee with the husband in an attempt to stay awake while our 7 month old protested his carseat by screaming for hours in the background. Our stupid valet hasn't come into our lives just yet. Stupid valet.

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    1. Who WOULDN'T want to listen to the angry protests of an infant while locked in the car for hours on end? It is such an enchanting experience. Add a little vomit and a diaper blow out and you've got yourself a par-tay.

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  6. Mostly Husband and I are in bed by 10 on Saturday after spending most of the evening watching Oddities San Francisco and some random movie. And after setting our alarm for 5 minutes past midnight to assure that The Boy has made curfew we fall asleep to the end of said random movie. Only to be awaken HOPEFULLY 5 minutes to midnight by the arrival of The Boy. I know we totally know how to spend a crazy Saturday Night!

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    1. You are my kind of peeps. I fall asleep during movies all the time. All. The. Time.
      I'm glad that your boy is such a golden nugget and arrives (most of the time?) 5 minutes before curfew. What a sweetie.

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  7. I lay on the couch watching "Juno" for the gazillionth time and eating Wheat Thins from the box. Much like Fergie, my life is G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S.

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    1. I love Juno. What a great flick. Brock owns the shirt that her dad wears in that movie- of course he does.

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