Home, Sweet Disaster Area

There's a mostly-full coffee mug in the upstairs bathroom. At first glance, one would assume it mine. It is, after all, the Eeyore mug that Bear gave me for my birthday last year.

Alas, no. Husband left it there this morning after he came in (while I was showering) for a good-bye kiss, a quick ogle and a last sip of coffee before he headed downstairs (where the kitchen is) and off to work (leaving the bathroom door wide open so the draft could pounce in to tackle the luscious steam heat that I had managed to capture).

At this point, it's slightly more than 14 hours old. I'm giving 10 to 1 odds that it'll still be there when we get back from Holiday World on Wednesday.

Husband and I have been working a lot. Mostly opposite hours. He's off on Monday and some arbitrary other day of the week. I'm off on weekends. The heathens are in daycare on Monday and all the other arbitrary work days of the week. They're off on weekends.

I'm a mostly-single mom (according to me, I certainly am not intending to put myself in the single mom's place, they're goddesses). I do all of the shopping (with heathens in tow), cooking, cleaning, laundering, auto-maintaining (on my car), library-running, movie-returning (without the benefit of movie-watching), dry-cleaning-drop-offing, grounding, yelling, no-saying and anti-depressant taking. Plus, I work a 40-50 hour week. And, I have to stay on top of the whole birth control thing just to keep the heathens from becoming any more plural.

In addition to all of the othering-ing I've been doing for the past week, I've also been sick-kid-coddling (surprise! it's not even a holiday) and sick-me-coddling. The living room is a pit, the kitchen is actually clean except for the dishwasher that simply needs to be unloaded and the laundry is done (as much as laundry can really be "done").

So, I'm leaving the cup.

I am smart enough and experienced enough to realize that The Grand Experiment never works. All of the "sigh"'s, and "Honey, that cup is nasty"'s and "Would you take that cup to the kitchen before it takes over the fucking bathroom?"'s in the world aren't going to make a dent in good ole Husband's "Oh, did I leave that cup there?" mentality. He was done with it, therefore it ceased to exist. All it's really going to do is piss me off.

The heathens might notice it though. I'm sure they'll say something. Probably to me, sure, but maybe to him after I repeat "Your daddy left it there." about 65,000,000 times.

Doomed to failure, I take a stand. I'm not sure if that makes me brave or stupid. It does make me feel a little superior. And hopeful. That may just be the anti-depressants talking though.

Mothers-in-law (sigh)

To catch you up:

December (sometime before Christmas): Mother-in-law comes to visit, all sweetness and smiles, with candy for the heathens. Husband and I had had a discussion beforehand.

"School," I said "is the heathens' job. They can't skip school just because Nana is visiting. I don't care if she wants to take them and pick them up. They can miss day care, big deal. But, I want them to go to school."

"You're right" said my Darling Husband. "You're such a great mom."(no, he didn't say that, but he should have.)

So, it's 9 o'clock on a school night and snowing and we schlep our tired butts to the airport, with out out-past-bedtime kids, to pick up Nana.

Right off the bat - "No, you don't have to go to school. You can stay with me!"

Me: Uh. No. They're going to school.
Her: It's only 3 hours!
Husband: Yeah, it's only 3 hours!

And all in front of my darling, impressionable, over-tired children. Shit.

Ask anyone I work with, at that moment in time Husband became "Mamma's Boy." Only 3 hours my left tit. It's school.

So, by Saturday that weekend I had moved past grunts into the monosyllable range and Mamma's Boy and I went to dinner. He says "I know you're mad."

DUH! Yes I'm mad.

We talked it out. He agreed that I'm right and school is their job and Nana can't expect them to skip school just because she can't (won't) visit during the off-season. And, yes, he loves me and would rather be married to me than her. Good boy. He's husband again.

April: Nana strikes again. "Please honey, Granny (Nana's mom) isn't going to be around forever. This might be the last time the girls ever see her. Please? Mom will drive over Thursday to pick them up from school. They'll only miss one day." *sigh* OK. If she's willing to drive two hours, ok, fine. But, it's only for Granny. And it's not happening again.

By 11am Thursday, Husband is going to get off work at 7 and drive our children 50 miles because Nana can't possibly make it to our house in time for school to be out. Can I pick them up from daycare? Damn. I was going to work late with no guilt because Nana was picking them up. Yes, I'll do it.

At 3:50 my phone rings. It's the school. Our lovely children swore up and down (even though there was no parental notification to back it up) that they were being picked up at school. The school didn't have the get on the day care van. The school kept them. Where is the parent who is picking them up? Damn.

Mamma's boy gets the kids and takes them to day care. I leave work (an hour and a half early) and pick them up from day care, because I know that they are disappointed and I want to soothe their little fledgling psyches. (Ha! Tough nuts, both of them.)

At 7:30, Mamma's boy calls. He's stuck in a seminar with a sales rep. Nana's ready to meet him, can I please, please, please take them? Fuck.

I gave a single inch. She took 100 miles and 2 hours (yes, two hours - fucking construction) of my life. Not to mention the 3 hours of work that I had to make up because I got to work late thinking I wouldn't see my kids again until Sunday then left early because the bitch contrived to leave my darlings abandoned at school.

Two fucking hours! Do you know what she said to me? Are you ready?

"You look tired."

Thank whichever god(s) that I don't own a gun. I was completely matri-in-law-icidal. While I was sitting in construction traffic on the way home, I informed Mamma's boy that I was finished. Done. Over it. Never again. Our children will be allowed to miss school for her again when we attend her funeral.

Memorial Day Weekend - Yes, she came in last weekend. Purposely flew in at 10 on Friday morning. She was completely pissed at Husband because he a) wouldn't let our girlys skip their last Friday at school. And b) listened to me and wouldn't even take them to the airport to pick her up (because I pointed out that it would be pulling teeth to get them to go to school if he did).

Here's our conversation Friday evening:

Nana: If you have something to do, go do it.
Me: I don't have anything to do, I've made all of my plans for Saturday, when you have the girls. (She got a hotel room for two nights and took them away, it was nice.)
Nana: Well, are there any fairs or festivals going on this weekend?
Me: There's the Rib America festival, but I don't think they'd really get into that.
Nana: Where is it?
Me: Downtown. (wrinkles her nose)
Me: (looking online) Oh, there's a Renaissance Festival.
Nana: Where is that?
Me: It's just down the road. I can give you directions.
Nana: Do they have rides?

Yeah. Sure they do. They have paddle boat rides in the moat. There's the Catapult and the Iron Maiden, but those are really for thrill-seekers. Maybe you and the girls can play Rack. And, there's a really cool ride called "Draw and Quarter"

Sigh.

To censor or not to censor.

Husband asked tonight if he could read my blog. "Of course, but you have to promise not to get mad." Why would he get mad? Well, there's this.

Yeah, I was cranky the other day. Big deal. But really, do I need him getting mad about something that I wrote on the spur of the moment that most likely kept him from getting hit with the skillet he gave me for Christmas?

Men are funny. Extremely lovable and vexing, but funny.

I got yelled at this morning for starting to dig my own car out of the snow. Sorry, you were indisposed and I needed to leave for work.

I got flowers this afternoon. Really pretty flowers. Not even roses (which he knows make me sad). Non-Valentine-ish, really colorful tulips.

I got stainless steel measuring cups and spoons tonight (for my birthday, which is tomorrow - he can't keep a gift until the day; he's always giving it up early). I love them honey. They're heavy and shiny and chained together so I'll always know where all of them are.

He's a good man. Silly and vexing, but good. I'm a lucky woman.

Happy Valentine's Day.