Before I get rolling there are two things you need to know:
1. To date MG has lost TWO sets of car keys. Both sets belonged to me. I am still using the valet parking key as we haven't gotten around to getting me a key with the clicker thingy on it.
2. I've never been very good at remembering historical facts, or geographical facts, or any kind of facts really. If it weren't for "The Fifty Nifty United States" song - I would have been lost in fifth grade.
Why does this matter?
Let me start at the beginning.
MG and I firmly believe in sharing household responsibilities. We take turns doing dishes, laundry, bathing Picklebug, etc. But there are a few things that are permanently assigned. For example, I take care of dusting, vacuuming, decorating, and cleaning the bathrooms. These are things that I do my best to take care of on a regular basis. MG is responsible for scooping the kitteh litter, taking out the trash and getting the recycling to it's appropriate location. This breakdown works pretty well for us.
Except that the town only picks up recycling twice a month. And we can NEVER remember which two days they stop by to get it. So our patio has about three months of recycling piled up in the corner.
I think you can guess where I'm heading.
This morning started off well. Pickle Bug was unusually easy to occupy while we got ready for work, there was plenty of clean laundry from which to choose a work outfit and I even had enough time to eat some Raisin Bran.
But as we departed our condo I noticed the 15+ blue bags of recycling near the front door. I had a strong urge to grind my teeth but, in an effort to not spoil the morning commute, I chose not to say anything.
Until I noticed three weeks' collection of newspapers in backseat of the car.
So I had to say something to MG.
Just like a bag of Ruffles, I can't stop nagging once I get going. So after I mentioned the 5 tons of recycling on our porch, and the decade's worth of newspaper in our backseat, I also had to point out that he needed his haircut.
And finally, riding high on a wave of annoyance, I bring up my missing keys (and MG knows I'm mad when I bring up the missing keys).
MG then promises (cross his heart, hope to die, stick a needle in his eye) that today he will:
a) figure out what day the recycling is picked up so he can set our collection by the curb
b) take the newspaper to Walmart this evening
c) make an appointment for a haircut
But where are my keys? The Atlantic Ocean? Ugh.
Knowing that I have short attention span and that I love a good challenge prompts MG to change the subject by asking me if I can name all of the worlds oceans.
The following conversation then took place:
Jen: How many oceans are there? Seven?
MG: (rolling eyes) Yes. Seven. Can you name them?
Jen: Okay, well there is the Atlantic and the Pacific.
MG: Good. What else?
Jen: Um... the Indian Ocean?
MG: Yep! What else? I'll give you a hint - "The North Pole"
Jen: (scratching head... thinking...) The Penguin Ocean?
MG: No honey. Try again.
Jen: The Arctic Ocean?
MG: Right again! Just one more...
Jen: I know! I know! The BLUE Ocean!! But what about the other two...??
Did I mention that I have a master's degree?
P.S. There are FIVE Oceans: Atlantic, Pacific, Indian, Arctic and Southern.
It's been several days since my last post and even longer since my last funny post - and for this I apologize. If only you knew the time and dedication it takes to come up with stories both true and entertaining to post here for your amusement.
In fact, I think I'm starting to drive my friends and co-workers crazy they way I constantly point out daily scenarios that would be good blog content. For example, the other day I had breakfast with a friend who was suffering from a terrible rash after having her eyebrows waxed. (It litteraly looked as if someone had drawn the McDonald Arch across her forehead with a red sharpie.) And being the extremely sensitive and considerate friend I am (and being desperate for new content) I actually had the nerve to ask her if I could take a picture and share it with you.
Seriously. If my cat pukes up a hairball the shape of Florida I feel compelled to take a picture, just in case I might be able to make a blog post out of it.
There are few limits to what I will do for your reading pleasure!
But just as I was getting desperate enough to share the tale (and pictures) of my first -and only- perm *shutter* - this WAY better story fell right into my lap!
Now, first you must promise NOT to judge me based on the content of this video. This may be the county where I grew up - but I swear to you that no one in my family is crazy enough to think that rough talkin' and pokin' sticks will ward off Bigfoot.
Everybody knows you need big guns and a Gorilla costume.
Thanks for getting up at 7:02 am with Picklebug and letting me sleep in until 9:18. Thanks for making the bed once I finally rolled out of it. Thanks for hanging out in the bathroom while I showered and listening to me tell you about my dream in which I tried calling my mom using a chicken nugget. And thanks for hugging me when I got out of the shower all teary-eyed because I still miss mom every day.
Thanks for bringing me coffee and offering to make me pancakes.
Thank you for watching Picklebug from 11:30 to 1:00 and then again from 1:50-4:00 while I took care of things at work and went to the grand opening of the new craft store. I know he was sleeping most of that time but the fact that you were willing to hang out in case our house caught on fire was greatly appreciated.
Thank you for doing the dishes even when I told you not to worry about them. Especially the pot with the three-day-old-rice-crusties stuck to the side.
Thanks also for taking me out to dinner tonight. Fried shrimp + Apple pie = happy Jen. And thanks for taking me to WM afterwards and buying me a Sally Hansen french manicure kit. My toes are fabulous once again because of you. And thanks for carrying Picklebug around the store and keeping him happy while I looked at baby stuff.
Thank you for giving Pickle his bath and for reading him "The Shy Little Kitten" three times while I straightened up the house.
Thank you for making sure I was equipped with fresh apple juice, a bowl of cherries and some Reese's Peanut Butter cups before you went out tonight.
Thanks in advance for the fresh cup of water I know will be on the bedside table when I go up to bed. Thank you for the sweet things you will say to me when we cuddle before going to sleep. Thanks for sleeping on less than your half of the bed to make room for my extra pillows and Mr. Hippo.
And thanks for being willing to do it all again tomorrow.
I have anxiety issues. And maybe a touch of depression.
This is no secret.
These things affect me in different ways at different times. Most of the time it pops up in the form of being 45 minutes early to an appointment. Or obsessing over which outfit to wear to dinner.
Or being especially grumpy when I order a hot dog when what I really want is a gyro. (Why did I order the hot dog? Because the line for the gyro was way too long and it's hot outside and I wasn't given ample time to sort through the options and I had to make a decision and it's so loud and crowded I can't hear myself think and so I'll order a damn hot dog because I don't want to explain that I don't want onions and peppers to the guy who looks like he doesn't speak English and goodgodwhydoesthishavetobesohard).
But sometimes it can be really bad. (Have I mentioned the postpartum depression? I have? Okay, let's continue...)
Today was bad.
It began when I ran out of time to make coffee. But I need coffee and so I secretly want MG to read my mind and offer to stop by Starbucks and get me a coffee. But he doesn't read my mind. So I don't get my coffee. And so I sit in the car on the way to work with a big frown on my face. Not a big deal - but my grumpy mood is further complicated by issues at my place of employment. I have a day full of appointments and no time to sit at my desk and make progress on my summer goals. Add this to the fact that I am having a lunch guest (AND the fact that I've just learned from my parents that they are staying the night with me next week on the way to the B&B they are visiting for their anniversary SO now I need to ask for time off to accommodate them). Having a lunch guest on top of asking for an extra two hours off on top of having little progress to report on summer goals on top of I don't do anything right anyway leads to my leaving work feeling like a failure.
Things don't improve when I arrive at daycare where I can hear Picklebug screaming down the hall. Thank you new daycare worker for holding my baby like pile of firewood. And thanks for making sure he got that extra nap this afternoon. Ugh.
At home we realize we have no groceries. MG asks if I can cover a trip to the store. Um. Sure. If all we need is Ramen noodles and Puff-i-Oh's (sorry, Cheerios are too expensive). But I'm starving! Can't we eat first? So we head to Taco Bell where I have to make loud farm animal noises through bites of my $.99 Baja Fish Taco to keep Picklebug happy. It was really baaaaaad....
By the time Picklebug is in bed, I'm beat down.
I feel like all I've done today is survived.
And I'm craving mozzarella sticks.
Because I'm just not fat enough.
I ask MG if we picked up any mozzarella sticks at the grocery store.
Chips? No. Pretzels? Popcorn? Rice Cakes? ANYTHING THAT CAN BE REMOTELY CONSIDERED A SALTY SNACK?
He reports from the pantry that I can choose between stale saltines and Uncle Ben's steam-able Rice-in-a-Bag.
I begin crying. He offers to go get me some mozzarella sticks several times but I refuse. Food is not the answer.
The weight of the day is too much. I cannot shake my doom & gloom attitude. I end up in his arms on the couch trying to make sense of it all. Of my job. Of my role as a mother. Of my role as a wife. Why is it so hard? Why do I let the little things bother me? Why do I take things so personally? Why can't I be happy like everyone else seems to be? What can I do to make it better?
I need desperately to put it all into perspective.
What, I ask MG, would he do if I only had one hour left to live?
He looks into my eyes and sweetly tells me he would go wake our sleeping baby and hold the two of us in his arms.
But, if I only had an hour left, what I would really want are some mozzarella sticks.
And maybe a Cherry Coke.
So here I sit. Pathetic. Blogging about my bad day when I should be telling you about all the blessings in my life.
Before having a baby I often wondered what one DID with a baby all day. But I've come to realize that it's less me doing something with baby and more watching baby do stuff! Like last night for example, Picklebug entertained MG and I for almost 15 minutes with this: