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Saturday, December 27, 2008

Vacation in Vegas

I'm on vacation at my parents' house in Vegas. This basically means that I'm neglecting my children while reading novels here not at home.

My brothers and sisters are neglecting their children whilst playing the Wii. It's all just another way that we impose on my parents.

Up today: a hike! This sounds exciting if you don't know that on the hike we went on a few days ago we got snowed on. In Vegas. It's pretty cold here.

Aside from that, I probably collected thirty-five dirty looks on the plane on the way here. Jakers was inconsolable from Albuquerque to Las Vegas (even M&Ms didn't work!) and so I just smiled beatifically at the people who were looking at me like I was the worst mother in the world. I always act like I don't care that much, because hey, I don't. Seriously, I haven't slept well for five years, and you want to give me a dirty look for interrupting your hour-long nap? Give me a break and buck up, campers. And if the crying is so bothersome? Here, help me out. Jakers would love a new friend.

I'm here for three weeks, so if my posting is even more sporadic than normal, forgive me. I'm probably just reading a teenage romance novel.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Just to Make You Feel Better

You know, sometimes I feel like I'm a degenerate, lazy, all-around-sucky kind of mom. Mostly after I read blogs that read like this: "Today I woke up and decided to do something special for my kids. So I made pancakes, eggs, toast, cut grapefruit and sprinkled it with sugar and then decorated it all with frosting so that it would look like a silly face. My kids loved it! Then we went to the library for story time, and it was so funny, because my little two-year old was reading the words to the book before the librarian would say them. Those flashcards I bought when he was born are really paying off! After story time, I decided we should go play in the park, so I made a quick picnic . . . yadda, yadda, yadda"--you get the point.

If you're like me, you can feel pretty crappy about yourself when, by comparison, your kids ate Marshmallow Mateys (but only the marshmallows) for breakfast and spent the morning in time out, instead of at the library.

I'm not saying we don't have our good days around here, too, but here are a few things that are going on around here to make you feel better about pretty much anything:

I have dishes that are two days old in my sink. I have no immediate plans to clean them. Maybe if I label it "a test" for my husband, I can stall doing the dishes indefinitely.

My butt is getting bigger all the time. It will soon catch Rhode Island, sizewise.

I don't care that my butt is getting bigger.

I like to read teenage romance novels. I will ignore my children and give them raw hot dogs for dinner when I am reading something I really like.

Veevs doesn't know how to read. She is five. I don't care that she doesn't know how to read.

Rhett called me "Jerkface" the other day, and I just laughed. I know I should get indignant, but really? Jerkface? That's the best insult he can come up with? Hey, Rhett, fifth grade called and they want their insults back. . .

Instead of taking my recyclables out to the recyling bin in the garage, I just pile them on my counter. When they overflow on to my oven, I know it's time to make a trip to the garage.

My twenty-month old knows how to count to three because I count when my kids aren't listening. And then I send them to time out. Maybe I do this too frequently?

I have a batch of wash upstairs that I have had to run through the washer three times because I keep forgetting to move it over to the dryer. Awesome.

Feel better?

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Just Testing

Every so often, Rhett will say something like this, "Hey did you notice that the trash can in the bathroom has been overflowing for the last week?"

And I'll look up from the book that I'm reading and be like, "Uh, yeah. Don't worry about it." Because, quite frankly, emptying the trash can has historically been his job.

"No, no, no," he'll say, "I left it on purpose to test how long it would take before you would take it out yourself."

"Oh." I'll think for a minute. "You know that the pile could spill out of the bathroom door and I'd still be okay with that, right?"

He sighs. This is not what he wanted to hear. I'm not sure what exactly he wants to hear-- perhaps profuse apologies? Sometimes I get mad at him for his condescending "I'm testing you because I'm so much better than you are" approach to cleaning the house, but most of the time I'm just a little confused as to why he thinks this time I'll cave before the garbage spills out of the can. There's no historical precedence to suggest that will ever happen. But yet, he still tests me.

So the other day I took Jakers to the doctor's and put Rhett in charge of picking up the kindergarten carpool.

After the appointment, I pulled up to our house about five minutes before 11:00. Rhett's car was still in the driveway. Meaning, undoubtedly, that he had forgotten the kids.

So did I call his cell phone and say, "I'll just pick them up for you, honey."? Hell, no. (Did you know that I swear occasionally? My apologies if you are shocked, except I'm not one bit sorry because I get a lot of pleasure out of my occasional swear words.)

Instead, I turned around and went and picked up the kids myself. And when I went to drop off the little boy who lives just down the street from us and saw Rhett driving like a bat out of hell down the street, I half-heartedly tried to wave him down. Because, I was kind of laughing too hard to wave very vigorously.

My friend was like, "Oh, you're going to be in trouble!"

And I was like, "Oh, no, I'm not! I'm not the one who forgot our child today. I'm the responsible party here."

When Rhett walked through the door (thirty minutes later) all wild-eyed and crazy, I just laughed.

It was the best test ever.

Monday, December 8, 2008

I Don't Want to Say I'm Paranoid, But I Might Be Paranoid

I don't think I'm paranoid, really. Except sometimes I wonder.

Like the other night I pulled into my subdivision and the car that was behind me on the main road pulled into my subdivision, too. Instead of thinking, "Hey, neighbor!" I immediately assumed it was a stalker.

Especially when it turned on to the road that leads to my road right after I did.

I was all like, "Quit following me, you freak!"

So of course, I passed my street so that freak wouldn't know where I lived. Or at least so they would think I lived in a different house from my real house, because I'm not above pulling into someone else's driveway and acting like I'm home. I might even check the mailbox, just to complete the facade.

Except that person wasn't really following me. They turned off at the next street.

So I sheepishly did a U-turn and drove back to my real house with my real children. I don't tell Rhett about these things. I think they might worry him.