Snotty baby, sick toddler and I am already going nuts. I'm wearing the a pair of jeans that make the fat if my stomach over flow above the waist-it's disgusting! My options are 1 left over maternity t-shirt or a multi stained knit top. The frustration in boiling over- I through on the stained top, yell at the husband, grab the kids and leave in a haste to the peds appointment. Of course young good looking doctor in training appears- as if I didn't already feel out of sorts. Good thing he's married and I'm married to a good looking mister myself or I might have felt embarrassed for leaving the house looking like Jabba the Hutt.
My eyes look like a raccoon. Boy started throwing up all over the place right before his bed time and nobody got all real sleep. He looked at me, pacifier still in his mouth and spewed. It got on the loveseat, on the flour in front of the loveseat, on the baby pajamas I had just folded on the loveseat-lots of love going on here-on my pants and some how on my underwear just above and to the right of my butt crack. I still don't know how that happened. Then every inch from chair to hall to bathroom rug to -thats it there was no more puck when he finally arrived at the toilet. Exactly 2cm short of having enough. And then every 20 minutes until 2 am. And now the house stinks like vomit.
The Ape tries to help my morning by making the doctors appointment of the kids and for some unknown reason this sets me off. I get zero chance to shower or eat so I smell, I'm tired and I look like I was diving in a dumpster. This day is already too much for me to handle. And its only noon.
Yesterday I took the family out to buy mommy some pants that actually fit so I can leave the house with some bits of dignity. I got one pair. I started looking for a sweater too since it is getting chilly- but the Ape said that $40 was too much to spend on a sweater-I own a $900 purse-so we looked for those that were more reasonable but there weren't any. How sad is that when I can't afford a sweater at a discount retail chain. And when I made a comment that it wasn't about price but since I am fat I should be cold- he agreed! Fat people should be cold! Lucky for him I knew he wasn't paying attention and when he realized the whole he was in tried to get himself out. It was useless- I just wanted him to tell me to get the damn sweater-it didn't work so I didn't care about apologies. I hate when confusing him doesn't quite work in my favor.
Fat, cold, stained, smelly, snotty-yuck!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Why are you doing the dishes?
A mother's work is NEVER done.
Usually, I take care of my two sons and myself.
Difficult but in some respects easier then dealing with all four of us.
My house is cleaner when it is just the 3 of us, I'm more motivated to clean after the kids go to bed and no buddy second guesses the way I load the dishwasher.
Unlike, lets say today, when what was I doing after the boys were put to bed but...washing the dishes that didn't fit into the dishwasher. How absurd a thing-I know. Cleaning a mess-what was I thinking! As I'm washing the Ape strolls in and asks me what I'm doing.
Hmm, lets see how should I answer that:
- changing my rough hands into leather
-tracking the time it takes to get a backache
-wasting time before dying
But, no I settle with just telling him what I am actually doing- as if he couldn't see.
Then I ask for...you guessed it the bitchiest thing- I ask for help in putting away dry dishes from the dish rack. He sighed and put away a few top items then tried to skip out on me like the task was done and my kingdom was settled.
I stop and say "what about the rest" and he nearly had a convulsion at the idea of putting away the actual items so I could, I don't know, put the wet dishes on to dry.
He thinks that when the dishwasher is full the dishes are done for the day. But, the sink was full, the dishwasher was full and the counter had items on it too. God forbid I might want some help so the kitchen gets clean-I mean he knows I do it everyday. I clean the same things, the same way everyday. And everyday that he is around he bitches and complains and asks the same question: "What are you doing."
WHYYYYY are you asking me that same question, again. You know.
I clean, I cook, I take the toddler to classes with the baby affixed to my chest while squatting down at the monkeys eye level for 45 minutes, I read books aloud, I make grocery lists, change diapers, check our diminishing account, fret over our diminishing account, clean peed on floors, scrub stained carpets, give baths, play football, run after my nude monkey going up the street while taking out the bathroom trash, get spit up on, listen tor crying as if it's a rock and roll symphony, and plan tomorrows menus all while trying to suck in the fat to maybe look attractive if I'm at angle and you squint from 20 feet away- what the fuck do you think I'm doing.
I"M CLEANING THE KITCHEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Me wife, not maid- you here, YOU HELP.
Got to love him!
Usually, I take care of my two sons and myself.
Difficult but in some respects easier then dealing with all four of us.
My house is cleaner when it is just the 3 of us, I'm more motivated to clean after the kids go to bed and no buddy second guesses the way I load the dishwasher.
Unlike, lets say today, when what was I doing after the boys were put to bed but...washing the dishes that didn't fit into the dishwasher. How absurd a thing-I know. Cleaning a mess-what was I thinking! As I'm washing the Ape strolls in and asks me what I'm doing.
Hmm, lets see how should I answer that:
- changing my rough hands into leather
-tracking the time it takes to get a backache
-wasting time before dying
But, no I settle with just telling him what I am actually doing- as if he couldn't see.
Then I ask for...you guessed it the bitchiest thing- I ask for help in putting away dry dishes from the dish rack. He sighed and put away a few top items then tried to skip out on me like the task was done and my kingdom was settled.
I stop and say "what about the rest" and he nearly had a convulsion at the idea of putting away the actual items so I could, I don't know, put the wet dishes on to dry.
He thinks that when the dishwasher is full the dishes are done for the day. But, the sink was full, the dishwasher was full and the counter had items on it too. God forbid I might want some help so the kitchen gets clean-I mean he knows I do it everyday. I clean the same things, the same way everyday. And everyday that he is around he bitches and complains and asks the same question: "What are you doing."
WHYYYYY are you asking me that same question, again. You know.
I clean, I cook, I take the toddler to classes with the baby affixed to my chest while squatting down at the monkeys eye level for 45 minutes, I read books aloud, I make grocery lists, change diapers, check our diminishing account, fret over our diminishing account, clean peed on floors, scrub stained carpets, give baths, play football, run after my nude monkey going up the street while taking out the bathroom trash, get spit up on, listen tor crying as if it's a rock and roll symphony, and plan tomorrows menus all while trying to suck in the fat to maybe look attractive if I'm at angle and you squint from 20 feet away- what the fuck do you think I'm doing.
I"M CLEANING THE KITCHEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Me wife, not maid- you here, YOU HELP.
Got to love him!
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