What I hate about Sundays

There was this country song that was popular some years back "What I Love About Sundays." Sundays are very lovely for some, I'm sure, but I hate them.

This morning I woke up early (blah) to my messy house (who cleans on Saturday night?) needing to let the dog out (DeuceDad out of town), then wrangle crabby toddler into dry diaper (dog barking to be let in) while hopping around with legs crossed (peepee dance) until I get a chance to relieve myself (easier to suffer than clean up everyone else's puddles).

The middle part of the day was fine - church, fire department open house, where Deuce sat in each of 6 emergency vehicles twice, lunch. Then Deuce wouldn't nap, but I think we've covered that here. I decided he needed quiet time, at which point he destroyed his bedroom. So we picked that up, and now he's watching 1 hour of TV while I rot my brain on the internet instead of doing anything productive.

But now, it's Sunday night. There's no where to go, I don't want to cook, and definitely don't want to make any messes. Deuce won't nap or watch football, I don't have anything great OTN. I could scrap, but there's a pile of filing on my table... who files on Sunday night?

Every Sunday night is like this. If it's not just me here being bored, then its DeuceDad and I each bored and trying to pawn Deuce off on the other one (an adult can only play play-doh for just so long).

I've tried making social plans for Sunday nights, but the rest of the world "values" their "family time" and "likes" to spend a "quiet evening" "together". (air quote that!)

I think we'll wander Super Target and get Chinese takeout. Those places don't care that it's Sunday. Then I can make a scrapbook page about Play-doh with authentic fingerprints on it. Win-win.

uggggggggggggggggggggh

I. feel. horrible.

Next time I want to eat all my meals 'on the run' remind me that I have a weak stomach. Please.

Today I injested two cups of coffee, a bacon egg and cheese biscuit, hash brown and iced coffee from McHell, followed by a large cone of cinnamon almonds and a diet coke from a fair. To top it off? Baked chocolate chip cookies. And ate some batter.

Pass the pepto, dudes.

I can't believe Deuce is still standing. He ate almost a whole bag of cheddar goldfish, some apple juice and grapes for the whole day. I guess one day of him not getting his 5 fruits and veggies won't kill him, but I'm a goner.

We return, broken, dirty and damp

We spent the last 5 days visiting with old friends upstate where we used to live, visiting with my in-laws, and enjoying a festival that DeuceDad has participated his entire life.

Let's rehash the good before delving in to the aftermath. Deuce was so well behaved, I'm very proud of him. Our first stop was at the home of friends with a 7 week old baby. Deuce wasn't jealous at all when I held her and managed to leave their dog and 2 cats alone enough at least to not make anyone hiss or growl. Way to respect other peoples' homes! We had dinner, wine the husband makes, and rootbeer floats, and compare some of those early parenthood moments. (i.e. "Is he/she ever going to stop crying" and "I have the feeling back in my nether regions"). They love to watch Deuce run around and imagine themselves 2 years into the future!

Then the drive to the ILs, and the moment I walked in the door another BFF called and told me her baby she's pregnant with has Downs syndrome and 2 other health problems that have been identified. I spend the next 2 hours crying on the phone with her, then an hour crying while DeuceDad and I discussed (again) what we though we might feel in that situation. It's tough to know what to do as a friend (call, don't call...) but I'm going to keep calling her until she tells me to quit. Let me tell you I held Deuce tight as I could and thanked God for the gift of him.

After a crappy night's sleep, we headed to "the city" for an ill advised shopping trip. I needed one thing, but couldn't find it at the local WalMart. So I though I had to drive almost an hour to "the city." Turns out, I could have gotten this item at the Farmer's Coop. I though that was where you bought chicken feed or something, but I guess it's a real store. Live and learn.

Next day it was off for a friend's house. We wanted to go to the beach, but it was raining. She suggested we take the kids to a McDonald's PlayPlace. I had never been to one, but I was really concerned for her sanity when she said that. I respect this woman, but... really? It actually was nice. It was newly built, and was mostly a huge padded climber with a slide. The boys had a great time and we got to relax and chat. I knew she was a smart cookie!

Another day, another drive, this time to the Thousand Islands area. We sat around at our friends' boating club and watched their 3 year old and Deuce play in the sand and the water. Deuce has really picked up on how to play with other children, and I love watching it. We talked, gossiped and laughed, and had a great morning. I got to watch their 2 girls for a few minutes while they left for a wedding and their babysitter was on her way over. I never plan to have a 3YO, 2YO and 7MO at the same time - they were well behaved, but I needed to be in 2 places at once for sure.

Today we watched DeuceDad and Grandpa do their lumberjack show (sooo fun - I'll take some video next time I'm at one), ate some fair food, and jumped in the car.

After all that, I, my dog, and my possessions are the worse for wear. Deuce and DeuceDad are tired, but not visibly damaged in any way. Everything is covered in sand, horse stall funk and dampness from the humidity, and I am tired, bug bitten, pinched and sick to death of being in the car. I drove our family car a minimum of 3 hours every day, much of it on the same stretch of country road, avoiding construction and the Amish and trying to make up time.

In the mean time, 3 of the measly 4 bras I own gave up the ghost and now have wires sticking out of them, stabbing or poking me in the side. What's up with that? They get a lot of use because they each get worn twice a week (more of less, don't nitpick the math), but why did they all have to go at the same time? The one I was wearing today literally snapped in half on one side and pinched me all the way home. I probably could have pulled over on the interstate and removed it, but one more instant in the car and I would have keeled over.

I'm in recovery mode. The car is sort of unpacked, except for the floor in the backseat, which has apple juice spilled all over it and I need to psych myself up for tackling that mess. The dog bed and dog himself are washed and drying. MIL does most of the wash, so that's no sweat, but the 2 giant duffles are going to take a few minutes. And I should consider what I'm feeding my son tonight. The time is fast approaching and I'm NOT going to the grocery store. Hopefully we have cereal.

Oh, and I have no pictures because I forgot the camera. I took a couple with MIL's camera, but didn't upload anything.

So my souveniers consist of my own crap, but dirtier. And memories made with good friends.

Why oh why is my therapist copay $40?

I'm back in complete and utter, although hopefully very short-lived, depression. I got a call for a phone interview! The catch - I'm 90% sure it would be a 90 minute commute. I have a baby at home. I can't be away from him 11+ hours 5 days a week.

Then I tried to install my Palm software (which I've been putting off b/c I knew it would be a nightmare) and something is fucked up, I think with the phone. The phone I had no business getting b/c I'm not working.

So I cried. Argh.

This is the time when it would be so great to have that rockin' out playlist and just go out and run until I'm spent. Or, let's face it, alternate jogging and walking which would just piss me off.

This would also be a good time to get a little wine drunk with girlfriends. Oh, I only have one friend here. I left my group of friends to come to the land of milk and honey and the great job opportunity. Great trade.

This would be a good time to just be in the house alone. Except it's messy and everything's half finished and we can't afford to finish anything BECAUSE I'M NOT WORKING.

This would be a good time to go out and treat myself to a new purse WHICH I CAN'T AFFORD.

This would be a good time to sob hysterically and fall asleep. But I just heard the crib rattle.

Time to put on the happy face. Maybe if I can convince him I can save this day.

Scrapbooking for the dedication impaired

I am closing in on the end of Deuce's first year scrapbook. He is 20 months old. By all accounts, this is not that bad. Scrapbookers either keep on top of their photos or fall hopelessly behind. I mean, I'm hopelessly behind, but the end of a huge milestone is in sight.

Remaining I have:

1. Thompson Park Zoo
2. Finding Feet
3. Photo shoot
4. Maxwell (ILs dog)
5. Easter
6. Packing to move
7. Hop & Pop (a fave toy)
8. Finish Christmas
9. Watching baseball with Grandpa Jeff
10. Playing with Grandpa Bob
11. Learning to stand
12. Playing music
13. Bubbles
14. Learning to walk
15. Claude Haiku
16. Me & Cousin Joey

I would like to do 4 of these topics per day and be done by the end of the week. That will never happen. I'm holding myself to an impossibly high standard of page quality and have been investing an hour per page minimum. I seems like if I don't struggle with design or journalling it's narrowing down photos or choosing paper. And I can NEVER find the right embellishments.

I just feel like if I can get over this hump I can get into the second year and be foot loose and fancy free. Until May, when I'll burn through countless trimmer blades trying and failing to finish the book before his birthday.

And when scrapping can't fix it...

...clean the bathroom and start teaching self to knit.

Yesterday I did some serious scrapbooking therapy. I wasn't in touch with the nostalgic/fun and playful feelings I like to have when I scrapbook (so that the pages don't reflect misery/bitchyness), so after today's crying jag about what an awful human being I am that I can't manage to secure professional employment, I went crazy.

Not bad crazy, don't call CPS.

First, I ate a brownie sundae. Then I changed a shitty diaper. That's a good way to get back in touch with reality. Then as long as we were upstairs and Deuce was having fun throwing toys at our refinished hardwood floors (praise Jesus), I cleaned the upstairs bathroom. Now the bathroom looks like something I can be proud of as a person who stays home all fucking day.

Mid-towel change, Deuce started begging for Backyardigans, so I turned on the magic bullet (The Tale of the Mighty Knights), found the knitting needle Deuce hid behind the loveseat yesterday, and cracked open the Learn To Knit Kit. I "learned" the knit and purl stitches about 2 years ago when I bought the kit. I'm surprised to find that although my gauge is loose like a $10 hooker, it can still do a knit stitch. I have about a dozen rows and it's kind of fun. I mean, it's not anything I should be doing so it's great fun.

So the moral of this little story is that I need to focus more attention on housework (and eating sundaes apparently) so that I have something to show for myself.

Housework shutdown

I looked around my house today and realized that there is not one square foot that brings me any peaceful feeling right now. I am so completely overwhelmed by the dirt and mess that I have shut down. Last night I went shopping and bought more things instead of picking up what I already have. This is a sign of the apocalypse.

I'm going back to basics and I'm taking the camera with me. My approach is to start in a doorway picking up and cleaning every last thing before moving forward. The only question is, which doorway to start at. Front door (not as bad, instant gratification) or side door (into kitchen which needs more heavy cleaning - floor is play doh-tastic).

I'm going to make a mop bucket and grab my camera. I'll let you know how it goes.

Slothtastic

My period has turned me into world's brattiest mom this month. All I want to do is eat chocolate and pizza and drink Diet Coke and play with Play Doh. Luckily we're fresh out of chocolate, I'm attempting to cook meals this week, and Deuce loves to play Play Doh.

He also likes to break it up into tiny, sock sticking pieces which I have to get on all fours to clean up and that feels like an injustice to me at the moment. But other than that it's an activity we both enjoy.

I'm on my second kind of pills since June and I'm still a crap-eating sloth for a week once a month. I mean, it's better than the pills that sent me into a homicidal rage (I think the trade name is Divorceterol). But Jesus H. Christ, tell me that every woman in the world spends a week out of every month forcing herself to do the most simple tasks and I will eat my hat. I don't know where my hats are. I will find a hat though, and I will eat it.

I made a deal with myself that if I can do the one load of laundry DeuceDad asked me to do (how dare he politely ask for clean work clothes so he can continue supporting our family?!), I will earn the reward of brainstorming ABC-Along 2009 topics in front of tivoed Law & Order. This is what it takes to accomplish something around here.

I'm saving my energy for when my little sculpter wakes up.

Possible alien abduction

I either had a lobotomy or was abducted by aliens. The lack of stitches on my head points toward alien abduction.

You may have noticed that it is Tuesday. I do not know how this came to be, and I have clearly lost time. The space time continuum that is.

In order to make up time that was stolen from me, I will go fight the battle against crumbs and cat hair on the main floor of my house instead of blogging. Wish me luck.

Either way, I'm going to be angry

DeuceDad has found ALL of his presents so far. He has even found the two extra presents I bought him because he found his "big" present. I blame myself - I left things lying out where 99.99% of the time he would never look but happened to need something right there. I just have such a hard time finishing a task beginning to end with Deuce around. He always needs something, which I don't blame his 18 month old self for, but it leaves a lot of unfinished business.

I was angry at DeuceDad for finding things and giving them a close inspection instead of walking away.

Then I was angry at myself for leaving gifts out and allowing the surprise to be spoiled.

But now I'm angry at DeuceDad again. "Well, if you get out of bed now you'll get more done and won't be able to blame Deuce for not finishing things."

Now I'm angry. But am I going to accomplish a lot today just to show him I can, or lie around in my pjs to show him I can.

I'm voting for pjs.

I interrupt this blog post to give you a blizzard

Happy Friday, people, and welcome to New York State where we are experiencing um, clement (is that a word? the opposite of inclement) weather in the form of a blizzard.

At this moment I am second guessing the decision to buy a new computer instead of a snowblower. Why this moment? I am newly out of the shower I had to take to thaw my frozen skin from spending over an hour shoveling the driveway in stupid thin pants. I seriously loved this computer until 90 minutes ago. Oh, and our 2 car garage with the nice wide driveway. And the large lot so the house isn't too close to the road. All brilliant ideas in the summertime.

I thought I read something about 30 days same as cash...