October 20, 2016

I think you have the wrong person

Current status: On the verge of a casual breakdown/in need of hibernation. 


Husbands. Can't live with them...end of sentence.

If I got paid a dollar for every time I found this scene in the shower when I got in for one of my world famous luxurious 45 second showers before the kids start really crying in their beds in the morning, I would have enough money to pay for the golf lesson that my husband took during his lunch break this week while I was sitting at home wrangling 2 little kids like a damn chump thinking he was hard at work.

Does anyone else's husband make a secondary pile of laundry on the floor next to the actual laundry basket? What godforsaken event could have occurred with these clothes to make them unworthy of sitting in the same basket as the regular dirty clothes?

On second thought, forget I asked.

I have decided I want to be more like a two year old and just do the most random shit ever. I already dress like one. I might as well act like one too. If they don't make any sense, why should I?! These are my people, after all.

This is a picture of Jack today while Katie was taking her morning nap.  He decided a ninja turtle helmet was absolutely necessary for consuming a quarter of a box of uncooked ninja turtle macaroni noodles. I know I could have stepped in to stop him or cook them, but there is a 100% guarantee that if I put time and effort into his food, he won't eat it. So I let him crunch away. 

I'ma be real with you. 

Somehow I thought that by the time I was in my 30's I would be rich, thin, and seemingly ageless. Something went terribly wrong.  I am currently 400 pounds over my "ideal" weight. I have no spare change. I am literally always tired. And I have stitches in my face because I wanted to get facelift at the plastic surgeon but all I could afford was to get two moles removed.

Later that day I went to the store to get something even though Grant offered to go. I was thinking that I should probably care a lot more about running into people with blood coming out of my face band aids. But my choices were that, or staying at home with the kids for the 2,000th hour of the day while Grant went. Naturally I chose to go scare the general public with my Frankenstein face.

The other day I bought a light bulb that was shockingly expensive.  I said to the sales woman, "Well, at least it lasts for 20 years." To which she responded, "Yes, you will never need another lightbulb again."  So, basically, I look like I'm 70?  Next time I will spring for the facelift.

Life is great and I am so lucky to have two adorable, funny, sweet kids and a hard working, involved husband. Trust me, I know that.  But damn life is intense right now. Half the time I am looking at my kids wondering how I got so lucky to have such good little angels. And the other half of the time I am getting yelled out because I couldn't fit all the play doh in Mr. Potato Head's butt,while counting down the seconds until either my husband comes home or until it is socially acceptable to start drinking. Unfortunately the latter always comes first. 

Maybe my 40's are when the smooth part of life begins. Until then, play doh and wine on repeat. 

I saw this picture in a magazine today.  They are selling David Yurman jewelry and absolute bull shit.