Dude, is this week over yet?
It all started last weekend when Brock and I were planning Thing 2's 3rd birthday party. When I say "Brock and I" and "planning" in the same sentence, I mean ME- just me. Always just me. Of course in my mind, I was thinking about the cupcakes and the drinks and the party favors and the plates and the napkins and the party activities and cleaning the muddy ponies and picking up the dog poop up out of the grass and preparing our much neglected backyard for over 20 children and their parents. Thing 2 requested a pinata, which needed to be purchased and filled. Streamers and balloons needed to be secured. The gifts still needed to be purchased. I was also planning on pony rides, painting faces and a pin the tail on the donkey station to entertain the kiddos. People would probably come into the house so I needed to clean that space as well, particularly the bathroom so that it didn't smell like little boy urine like it does all the time these days.
Brock, on the other hand, was thinking about a hot tub. Specifically, the hot tub that our neighbors gifted to us because they could no longer use it. His man brain was all wrapped around using his man tractor to move the massive eight man hot tub into the correct location, and cleaning the 50 jets that came with it- because you know how imperative a hot tub is to a three year old's birthday party. It reminded me of the last time the we hosted a party. I couldn't find him. Things needed to be done. So so many things needed to be done and Brock was MIA. Finally I discovered his location. He was in the barn making Lincoln Logs for our children. As I scrubbed and raked and swept and prepared food for 30 people, my husband was in Santa's fucking workshop, cutting tiny building toys out of wood. You know... because fresh Lincoln Logs are imperative to entertaining 30 people. A little dog poo on the shoe never hurt anyone! Certainly a little bird poo all over your lawn furniture wouldn't be a problem either, right? Clean house, schmean house! Food, what? We can all just make a tiny cabin out of some freshly cut wood!
After I delicately pointed out the error in Brock's thinking, I managed to get him on board with 80% of the pre-party planning and he went to work on the yard. In addition to cleaning and setting up all of the things, I spent six hours making cupcakes. SIX. (Note to self: buy cupcakes next time). The celebration was successful. Thing 2 turned three. Faces were painted, ponies were ridden, tails were pinned, cake was eaten and we sent everyone home on a sugar high. My sister stayed a little late and told me all about a project that she needed me to do for her ASAP. Brock, exhausted after being forced to "think like Johi" all weekend, fell asleep at 7:45. I stayed up and worked on some writing until 10:45. That was Sunday.
My Monday started with waking up to discover that my neck had gone out in the night. Then I herded the children around to their various appointed places during the day, which included picking up Thing 1's $86 T-Ball uniform. Because of our hectic schedule,Thing 2 skipped his nap... for the third day in a row. That is never a good situation.
|It was worth the hassle and the dough just for this|
image of total cuteness.
The next day started for the boys and I with a trip to the dentist, where I ended up crying in the chair because a whickety whacked neck makes me either angry or emotional. Apparently, this time, we went with emotional. I ran home to prepare the yard for a pony tutorial that I was hosting for my son's class. About twenty people showed up in my yard and I attempted to inform a group of preschoolers all about ponies. Of course, it rained in the middle of the presentation and Black Dog (who was locked in the barn), freaked out and tried to claw her way out (you know, acid rain being such a problem and all). When I realized what had happened, she had succeeded in breaking a piece of the log siding in two and had her nose and front leg almost through to "safety". Here is my question for all you dog whisperers out there: how is OUTSIDE in the rain better than INSIDE?
The next day was greeted with cloudy skies, the grocery store and a trip to the chiropractor. I had hired my babysitter to hang with the Things in the afternoon so that I could write and go to the cave doctor solo. My neck was fixed but I was exhausted after my adjustment, so I decided to take half an hour walk to try to revitalize myself. I threw on some shorts, donned my headphones and bolted from the house. While I was out in the natural area, attempting to feel human again, storm clouds rolled over and some aggressive wind kicked up. Then the rain attacked. Then the rain turn to hail. I bolted for the trees where I found a discarded plastic trash bag. Immediately I wondered why it was there and my brain drifted to how many body parts could fit in one trash bag. But the rain/hail/wind was crashing onto my head and whipping at my flesh so I ignored my gut. I also ignored the mold on the bag as I picked it up and put it over my head. Then I hid in the trees and desperately dialed my babysitter to please come and pick me up. She had to wake up Thing 2, who had just gone down for his nap. Then I felt horribly guilty. Needless to say it was a very relaxing experience for me.
The trash bag is still in my truck.
Then, to top it off, I got to go to the crotch doctor! Holla!
The nurse took my blood pressure, and I was certain it would be high, even though I am always barely alive according to the blood pressure machiney-thingy. I have been agitated and clenching my jaw and exhausted and bitchy for the last.... hmmmm ... 15 years or so. I figured at some point my type A personality and inability to relax properly would kick in and elevate my blood pressure.
The nurse looked at me and said," 98 over 60."
I asked, "That's low, isn't it?"
She said,"It is low. Very low."
I said,"I'm surprised it's so low."
She asked, "Why is that?"
I said, "Because I'm an asshole."
Then she laughed and I knew she was 'my people'.
Then I was probed and went home and spent an hour making a delicious dinner. Chicken enchilada casserole was a big hit with the adults in the house. However, my children must have believed that I was attempting to feed them hog slop by the way they turned their noses up at the meal.
I awoke today to my little Taurus Thing 2 fully embracing his new three-year old bull personality. Let me just say that it was a delightful morning, particularly the part where he spent ten minutes whining, crying and hollering in timeout. Then I gathered up the boys and took them back to the dentist for their cleaning and checkup! Naturally, Thing 1 was a perfect patient and Thing 2 wouldn't let any cleaning tool come near his mouth.
All the while I had gotten dressed into a cute black shirt and discovered what wasn't so cute was my giant mom gut hanging over the waste of my jeans. Ugh. I made an effort to contain the Beast that is my waistline and I donned my black Spanx tank top. In an epic battle of gut verses Spanx, my belly proved more powerful, as the the Spanx spent the morning rolling up into a fetal position until it was resting "comfortably" just under my boobs. Then the children came home with a bag of "fun" from their checkup and played dentist on each other, where Thing 2 was the perfect patient for Thing 1.
|I don't think the red eye is from the flash today;|
I believe it is from only one nap in five days.
All of this made me realize two things:
1. Spanx is the work of the devil and has no right on an irritated woman's body- so clearly there's no place in my life for it. Ever.
2. Thank goodness I did not take the children to the gynecologist with me, because I really don't need them re-enacting that type of visit.
I have officially been thoroughly probed this week and none of it was the enjoyable kind. I'm done. Please say a prayer for me that BOTH of my children nap today and that my husband knows to stay on his side of the bed and maybe occasionally throw me a piece of chocolate or an Advil.
Peace, Love and Unicorns,
*What was the best and worst part of your week?