Gassy

I paid $1.73 for a gallon of gasoline today.


I think I cried a little bit.

Frazzled

Can I just tell you about my day?

No? Too bad.

6:20 am - hit snooze 3 more times.
6:30 am - beg Steven to go wake up Bradley while I get dressed and rub the sleep out of my eyes.
7:00 am - send the men off to fulfill their daily duties.
7:02 am - feed the chief (Olivia).
7:30 am - clean that mess up. Or not.
7:45 am - find out that Emmy doesn't want to go to school because her tummy is still upset.
8:00 am - get Olivia dressed, and make a bed or two. Or none. This is a confessional after all.

It is at this precise moment that I realize what the rest of my day is going to be like. So to save you minute by [obnoxious] minute detail of my day, I will quickly say that I had 7 special orders to fill from last weekends craft fair (different blog - maybe tomorrow), cards to make for tonight's card club, and a house to clean for my VTs to come over at 11:45 - even though it ended up really being at 1:10.

No, no. That's not the fun part. I had piano lessons to teach from 3:30 to 5 and Bradley had to be at his soccer team's party at 6pm (he was getting his trophy and he would have punched me in the mouth had I told him we couldn't go). My card club was meeting at 7pm (at Chuy's - duh, you go to anything when it's at Chuy's) and my book club was due to meet at 8pm (and I actually had read the book this month!).

Well, sure, that's a busy night and all, but just leave Ste with the kids and make your rounds. Oh ya, Steven had plans with the fellas at 8pm.

I had the audacity to think I was going to be able to do it all.

(Just a sidenote: these sort of days have been happening for two weeks. I won't even get into what my tomorrow looks like. What's wrong with me?)

I was a bit frantic on the phone when Steven called at 2:03. He could tell by the pitch of my voice. (I also think he could hear my arms flailing about and my eyes bulging out of my head - I don't know how, but he can hear those things.) He laughed a little and said, "It's pronounced, 'nnnnoooooooo,'" as if I were hard of hearing. He thinks I don't know how to say "no" to people. I totally know how to say no! I just don't want to. I really wanted to do all of those things tonight. And I really wanted Steven to do his thing tonight.

That didn't happen.

So to my friends that I sadly missed at Chuy's, you'll be getting your cards this weekend. After I've slept for 12 hours straight. Mostly because my eye is twitching out of control.

BTW, (picture me with my hands on my hips) I was a student advocate for the D.A.R.E. program my senior year. I totally know how to say "NO" to some stuff.

So, hmph. (I just stuck my toungue out at you)

Do you ever have a hard time saying, NO?
What experience made you learn your lesson?

Karma

Olivia found my toothbrush.

Not laughing as hard.

Vomitrocious

Olivia's down with a little stomach bug.


I'm trying my hardest not to laugh.


No, I'm not a bad person (not always), but if you've ever had the opportunity to be witness to someone's first time that their stomach betrays them,

well,

it's hilarious.


At 4am, Steven found her in her crib all gooed up. After a quick clean-up and a change of sheets, I cuddled with her on the couch waiting for the next round of it (there's always a next round).

When it came, she looked at me like I had taken her stuffed puppy and lit it on fire. Her eyes questioned, "but why?" and she looked around the room like she was confused and disappointed in humanity.


Comedy.


Oh, and she's really cuddly. Which is even better.

Maybe if I let her cough on my toothbrush,
I can lose the 5 lbs I've gained since the contest.

PS Can anyone name the movie they use the term "vomitrocious"?

Betrothed

When it comes to buying a house,

I feel like I'm marrying someone I've yet to meet.

Don't know if I'll hate his family or want to kill his mother

(I'm not exactly sure I'll like my neighbors),

He might be high maintenance, or worse yet, snore

(I'm committed to a huge monthly mortgage),

I could get out of it, but divorce is always messy

(selling a house in this market will actually cause a divorce)

I'm hopeful, nervous and excited all at once.
Which causes me to throw up - but somehow not lose any weight.

Blog Relationship

This is definitely our worst fight yet.

My blog and I haven't been speaking for some time now. And while I've actually updated my recipe blog, I just can't seem to open up to this one.

I'm stuck.


I've thought about writing about my hive outbreak that happened on Saturday.
Not pretty.
And even less pretty to look at than it is to read about.

I've thought about writing about how I've had to take sleep aid a couple of times a week because my busy mind ONLY thinks about which house (if any) to buy and this keeps me up at night. But then I will need to go and stress-eat to make myself feel better.

I've thought about writing about two new additions to our family in the last three weeks: Benjamin and Maxwell. But when you write about cute new babies, you need cute new pics to accompany it. And I don't have any from Mr. Maxwell (we're praying for you little M).

I've thought about writing about how I think Bradley's Principal is a selfish idiot. But that's just not nice, so I won't.

I could write about what I think of the outcome of the election, but we all know what happened when I wrote (actually when YOU wrote) about the candidates before the election. And I prefer to stick to everyone else writing about it.

I've thought about writing about all the stuff I have going on this week (an enrichment class to teach, a pampered chef party, a three day craft show, two soccer games, and a partridge in a pear tree).
But then I get stressed and think about all the things I need to do to get ready for said things.

Speaking of which, I better go.

I ask you, tell ME what to blog about.