Dude.
So today- of course- J has this hearing down state and leaves really early. He takes the car that I have been driving since August. This car has in it: Monkey's puffy vest, all of her barrettes (without which she looks like a ragamuffin), the snap-n-go stroller that enables me to shop with H*llary. To boot- Monkey's daycare is pretty much going ape over this holiday. I had to feed & change both girls, bathe and dress Monk, pack Monkey's Halloween costume (ahem, a bumblebee) and a sheet/blanket for naptime and drop her off. No small feat whilst lugging along a baby carrier. Last week I must have been smoking crack because I signed up to bring a "pumpkin treat" DESPITE the fact that nobody had signed up for napkins yet. This weekend I didn't feel like baking and I started to feel stressed about the expectation ("What if nobody likes my cookies? My feelings will be hurt!") so I high-tailed it over to the grocery store and picked up "harvest fudge brownies." The person who signed up for brownies is gonna be pissed!
MIL Story: This is from when H was in the hospital and MIL stayed with me for a few hours. Very nice gesture. A little awkward because she is old fashioned and cheesey and I'm sure the people we were sharing a room with were like, 'WTF' as they listened to her ramble on about how Evil SIL was s*exually assaulted a few times (and they were like really dumb incidents- like the one time, she accepted a ride home from a college party with some weird old foreign man and he locked the car doors and tried to make out but she fought him off of her. Umm... Where the hell were your friends? Who would accept a ride home from a weird foreign man? Or any old man for that matter? Everybody knows that drunkenly accepting a ride home will result in a make-out session............right?). She always ends up telling me and everyone else she enters into conversation with how her love for my FIL was "at first sight." I need not even embark upon a story about whether I believe in love at first sight- I remember falling in love at first sight with a number of dudes (and divas, frankly) and they were usually obscenely good-looking and they usually paid me no heed. So I guess I've experienced unrequited love at first sight. I digress. The point is that this should not be a go-to topic of conversation. If you are both talking about where you met your significant others? Rock on. But if you are not? Nobody asked about when you fell in love, homegirl. But this woman has told me MULTIPLE TIMES that her love for FIL was "at first sight." She also told my mom this in the hospital waiting room while I was in labor with Monkey. Anyway, she did include a new, interesting tidbit. She said that before she met FIL, every single night she would sit in the bathtub and sing a song from the musical The Mu*sic Man (I have never seen this) called "Goo*dnight my Someone" or something. She said, 'I knew the man of my dreams was out there and that I just hadn't met him yet. So every night as I took my bath I would sing this song saying good-night to the man I would marry.' I seriously wanted to kick her a$$ for being so embarrassing. Please keep in mind that at this point I am sharing a hospital room with a baby and her parents. They are hearing ALL of this. I never know how to respond to these lame a$$ stories, so I simply said, 'Aww, that's cute.' We weren't even talking about musicals. We weren't even talking about falling in love. This story just basically spouted out of her mouth. Did I mention that she stared singing this song vibrato like an opera-singer while describing it to me?
Otherwise, she's gotten exponentially better about not insulting my children or telling me how to raise them. I don't know why- maybe someone gave her a talking to.. or maybe my oftentimes rude responses to her statements sunk in. I'm just enjoying my cake while it's on my plate.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
The Last Thing
that I should be doing right now is blogging. Both girls are napping and I don't know how long this will last (probably 20 more minutes) and my house looks like a train blew through it. Although I can totally clean while they're awake (kind of), so whatever.
So every Saturday morning I take Monkey for a medium sized walk and then we stop by at the playground before heading home to eat lunch or whatever. There is always this guy there with his 2 sons- A*ugustus and R*occo. His wife had twins a few months ago, so she is always home with them. He is a banker of some sort and his wife stays at home. He told me they have a night nurse and multiple nannies during the day during weekdays- I think nannies for the 2 older boys and then a different set for the twins. "An entire staff," he said. And he told me that his weekend is pretty much filled with kid stuff. He drives a half hour to get to this playground, which J & I find odd. He's really nice. He has told me multiple times that his wife does the "double breastfeeding thing" with the twins. Umm.. TMI? Definitely.
But I feel like his life is sucks, which isn't really fair to say because I am also at the playground with Monkey and my weekends are filled with kids too. So technically our life is similar. But I guess what seems depressing about it is that he seems to always be with the 2 "older" boys (ages 3 and 2) and I always imagine his wife at home with the twins. Like 2 separate lives. This could be totally wrong, btw. Usually J & I try to take both girls on errands- even if it is more hectic- so that we can at least hang out with each other (although admittedly in the morning, it is just Monk and I and J is at home with H). I prefer this latter method. I'm sure if we had twins we'd be up sh*t's creek, but I guess that is why neither of us wanted twins. A huge pain in the a$$. I'm sure when all the boys are older it will be different for his family, but for now it depresses me to see him roll up on the playground. This is partially because I don't really like playground socializing, which is absolutely inevitable, I've learned. I have 1 mom-friend from Monkey's daycare and we have taken our kids to the playground together but that was fun because her and I would be friends even if we didn't have kids and we talk smack on the other parents from the daycare.
Monk was only old enough for the playground since the spring (she could've gone earlier I guess but the weather sucked). I am 29. For the first 28 years of my life that I actually remember, I had no clue that on Saturday mornings as I slept in, went to brunch/flea markets/the gym, that parents of young children had been at the playground for hours already hoping to relieve their children of some pent up energy. I really don't like going to the playground. It's boring for me and slightly stressful, as Monkey wants to climb up large pieces of equipment that she could easily fall off of, which means that I am climbing up large pieces of equipment and then sliding down slides at lightening speed, usually ending up with a wet butt from any rain from the night before. But, alas, it is not all about me. Monkey loves it so freaking much.
So every Saturday morning I take Monkey for a medium sized walk and then we stop by at the playground before heading home to eat lunch or whatever. There is always this guy there with his 2 sons- A*ugustus and R*occo. His wife had twins a few months ago, so she is always home with them. He is a banker of some sort and his wife stays at home. He told me they have a night nurse and multiple nannies during the day during weekdays- I think nannies for the 2 older boys and then a different set for the twins. "An entire staff," he said. And he told me that his weekend is pretty much filled with kid stuff. He drives a half hour to get to this playground, which J & I find odd. He's really nice. He has told me multiple times that his wife does the "double breastfeeding thing" with the twins. Umm.. TMI? Definitely.
But I feel like his life is sucks, which isn't really fair to say because I am also at the playground with Monkey and my weekends are filled with kids too. So technically our life is similar. But I guess what seems depressing about it is that he seems to always be with the 2 "older" boys (ages 3 and 2) and I always imagine his wife at home with the twins. Like 2 separate lives. This could be totally wrong, btw. Usually J & I try to take both girls on errands- even if it is more hectic- so that we can at least hang out with each other (although admittedly in the morning, it is just Monk and I and J is at home with H). I prefer this latter method. I'm sure if we had twins we'd be up sh*t's creek, but I guess that is why neither of us wanted twins. A huge pain in the a$$. I'm sure when all the boys are older it will be different for his family, but for now it depresses me to see him roll up on the playground. This is partially because I don't really like playground socializing, which is absolutely inevitable, I've learned. I have 1 mom-friend from Monkey's daycare and we have taken our kids to the playground together but that was fun because her and I would be friends even if we didn't have kids and we talk smack on the other parents from the daycare.
Monk was only old enough for the playground since the spring (she could've gone earlier I guess but the weather sucked). I am 29. For the first 28 years of my life that I actually remember, I had no clue that on Saturday mornings as I slept in, went to brunch/flea markets/the gym, that parents of young children had been at the playground for hours already hoping to relieve their children of some pent up energy. I really don't like going to the playground. It's boring for me and slightly stressful, as Monkey wants to climb up large pieces of equipment that she could easily fall off of, which means that I am climbing up large pieces of equipment and then sliding down slides at lightening speed, usually ending up with a wet butt from any rain from the night before. But, alas, it is not all about me. Monkey loves it so freaking much.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Photos
Monday, October 24, 2011
Hola
I am still here, although a cranky baby and toddler take up a vast majority of my time. You see, a toddler goes to bed at 7-730pm. A baby? 10ish. And then wakes up a lot at night, which makes you sleepy by day. But you can't nap because you have a toddler. So until H is old enough to sleep train (4-5 months according to her doc), my evening blogging time isn't so regular. FYI: Sleep training is basically letting a baby cry it out- putting the baby down after a bottle/bath/whatever and then the baby screams and cries because it doesn't want to go to bed and then it falls asleep. Rinse and repeat until the baby gets the point: 7:30 = bedtime for baby. We waited to do this with Monk until she was 7-8 months and we waited way too long. Listening to her screams and pleas for 45 minutes was absolute h*ll. Keep in mind too, she was our only baby, so it was extra hard. With this one, I feel like it will be a bit easier as we are more seasoned. For starters, everyone is happier when baby sleeps well at night- especially, I can imagine, when there are more than 1 babes. But, for real, the real reason it was so hard with Monk was because I didn't pick her up from daycare til 515, so for her to go to sleep a mere 2 hours later made me feel like a piece of trash mom who never sees her baby and I missed her so much that I would just stare at her as she slept wanting to give her a million kisses. WOE IS ME, folks. Same old song, I know, I know.
Anyway, the H-ster is happier when out and about. So this morning we ventured to Target, did some grocery shopping and I picked up a Xmas gift for Monk: a magnadoodle. Member those?
I happily must report that MIL has been much better lately. She called me on Friday and said, 'Can I watch the girls for a bit so you can go out and do something for yourself?' OMG. I generally have trouble accepting help from people (which is dumb) so I almost said, 'No, I'm fine!' but then I was like, 'Dude, you b*tch behind her back about her being a bad gma and then when she offers help you say no? You suck.' so I said, 'Sure!' My first urge was to catch up on something like laundry or grocery shopping, but then I realized that's no fun and you will get to that stuff anyway so instead I went and got a pedicure and buried myself deep into the land of US Weekly's. It was divine. I stared at people who didn't have infants at home: a very stylish girl wearing navy blue vans who looked like Pipp*a Middle*ton (am I the only one wondering what the big deal is about her? Kate is WAAAAY hotter. Like, way hotter. So why is Pips in the news all the time?) was there to be waxed. I wondered what kind of wax it was. Then there was a 45 year old woman and her 10 year old daughter- the daughter was playing on an iphone or something during her pedicure. I didn't go to the fancy salon, just one of those asian nail places. And then I grabbed myself Subway on the way out and returned home to find that MIL was alive and so were my children- I should've popped some nerve meds before the pedi because I definitely sat there texting Jim things like, 'You don't think Monkey will fall down the stairs, do you? Do you think she can handle both of them? Do you think she'll trip on a dog bone?' This put a damper on my 2 hour break, but whatever.
Oh, did I mention that we had to return to the ER and stay for 2 days bc H started to run a fever? It wasn't a very high fever but bc she was so young, better safe than sorry. H & I slept in the ER the first night- in a private room. Uncomfortable. About a million doctors came in to us during the night to get the whole story from me (again) and check her out. The next day they moved us to a room. J stayed with her all day while I went home (my mom came up to watch Monkey) to rest and hang with Monkey. I returned that night. My mom kept me company for awhile at the hospital but then she left and then H started crying inconsolably. I was texting J that I was losing my mind, what was wrong? He responded, "Just feed her a lot. She might throw up but who cares- its just throw up and then she will fall asleep." My savior! I did just this and she didn't throw up but she did fall asleep. She was just hungry. I was so tired that it did not occur to me that her tears were HUNGER. What an a$$hole, right? Anyway, we went to bed. At 330AM they brought our roommate- a baby with ACID REFLUX. Dude... this baby effing screamed her head off for HOURS. I kid you not. I literally said a prayer that went something like, 'Thank you, God, for not giving me a baby with acid reflux. Amen.' The mother of that baby straight up left her baby in the hospital room and went to sleep somewhere else. She was so tired that she didn't care. And boy did that baby scream and it was really awkward of me to pretend that, like, I didn't hear it and not go pick it up, ya know? But that's what I did because I'm pretty sure I would be arrested or something for picking up someone else's baby. Anyway, they let us go early because H was doing so well. They ultimately just wanted to be sure she didn't have bacterial meningitis. Up until 8 weeks, they treat every baby with a fever as if they have bacterial meningitis because if they wait until they have a positive diagnosis to administer antibiotics, it is oftentimes too late and the baby will die. Happy times, right?
Okay, I recognize this is a baby heavy post but that is because I still haven't slept over 4 hours since Aug 27 (which is a huge step up from 3, I might add) and my mind isn't feeling particularly creative right now.
Anyway, the H-ster is happier when out and about. So this morning we ventured to Target, did some grocery shopping and I picked up a Xmas gift for Monk: a magnadoodle. Member those?
I happily must report that MIL has been much better lately. She called me on Friday and said, 'Can I watch the girls for a bit so you can go out and do something for yourself?' OMG. I generally have trouble accepting help from people (which is dumb) so I almost said, 'No, I'm fine!' but then I was like, 'Dude, you b*tch behind her back about her being a bad gma and then when she offers help you say no? You suck.' so I said, 'Sure!' My first urge was to catch up on something like laundry or grocery shopping, but then I realized that's no fun and you will get to that stuff anyway so instead I went and got a pedicure and buried myself deep into the land of US Weekly's. It was divine. I stared at people who didn't have infants at home: a very stylish girl wearing navy blue vans who looked like Pipp*a Middle*ton (am I the only one wondering what the big deal is about her? Kate is WAAAAY hotter. Like, way hotter. So why is Pips in the news all the time?) was there to be waxed. I wondered what kind of wax it was. Then there was a 45 year old woman and her 10 year old daughter- the daughter was playing on an iphone or something during her pedicure. I didn't go to the fancy salon, just one of those asian nail places. And then I grabbed myself Subway on the way out and returned home to find that MIL was alive and so were my children- I should've popped some nerve meds before the pedi because I definitely sat there texting Jim things like, 'You don't think Monkey will fall down the stairs, do you? Do you think she can handle both of them? Do you think she'll trip on a dog bone?' This put a damper on my 2 hour break, but whatever.
Oh, did I mention that we had to return to the ER and stay for 2 days bc H started to run a fever? It wasn't a very high fever but bc she was so young, better safe than sorry. H & I slept in the ER the first night- in a private room. Uncomfortable. About a million doctors came in to us during the night to get the whole story from me (again) and check her out. The next day they moved us to a room. J stayed with her all day while I went home (my mom came up to watch Monkey) to rest and hang with Monkey. I returned that night. My mom kept me company for awhile at the hospital but then she left and then H started crying inconsolably. I was texting J that I was losing my mind, what was wrong? He responded, "Just feed her a lot. She might throw up but who cares- its just throw up and then she will fall asleep." My savior! I did just this and she didn't throw up but she did fall asleep. She was just hungry. I was so tired that it did not occur to me that her tears were HUNGER. What an a$$hole, right? Anyway, we went to bed. At 330AM they brought our roommate- a baby with ACID REFLUX. Dude... this baby effing screamed her head off for HOURS. I kid you not. I literally said a prayer that went something like, 'Thank you, God, for not giving me a baby with acid reflux. Amen.' The mother of that baby straight up left her baby in the hospital room and went to sleep somewhere else. She was so tired that she didn't care. And boy did that baby scream and it was really awkward of me to pretend that, like, I didn't hear it and not go pick it up, ya know? But that's what I did because I'm pretty sure I would be arrested or something for picking up someone else's baby. Anyway, they let us go early because H was doing so well. They ultimately just wanted to be sure she didn't have bacterial meningitis. Up until 8 weeks, they treat every baby with a fever as if they have bacterial meningitis because if they wait until they have a positive diagnosis to administer antibiotics, it is oftentimes too late and the baby will die. Happy times, right?
Okay, I recognize this is a baby heavy post but that is because I still haven't slept over 4 hours since Aug 27 (which is a huge step up from 3, I might add) and my mind isn't feeling particularly creative right now.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
E.R.
So yesterday late afternoon, the H*llster started crying inconsolably, which is something she never does. She barely even cries. She grunts, I give her food and she is once more cool as a cucumber. After 2 hours of this, I consulted my 20 month old and determined that we should call the on-call doctor. As H*lls is just getting over her first cold (her and everyone else in my life), I suspected an ear infection. The doc said to take her to the ER since she is so young. I call J, feed Monk, pack H's things, remove the mascara from beneath my eyes, put on my finest sweatpants and packed everyone in the car for what would surely be an eventful evening.
After not to much waiting (young babies are apparently seen first, which makes sense), we got in and the doctors were unable to find a cause. Her ears were fine. They wanted to do all this crazy testing (spin*al tap, etc..) and we said "Not yet" to most of it because... because. I don't know. What if she was just having a bad day? What if she is secretly just becoming colicy? I have no clue. But my ear hurts and I'm still not sure we made the right decision. But I spoke with my pediatrician this morning and he thinks I did, so that makes me feel better. But my ear still hurts. In fact, it has hurt for 6 weeks- the age of the baby. When I don't get enough sleep, my tonsils and ears always ache. Why didn't anybody remove my g-dd-mn tonsils when I was young? Those things are the size of golfballs, I kid you not. Every time a doctor is like "Open wide" and I open my mouth, without fail he or she will comment that I have the largest tonsils they have ever seen. Well, they are also sore about 99% of the time. I'm about to rip them out myself. Can you tell I need sleep? My mom is hear watching the kiddos so that I can nap, not blog. But I really wanted to blog about the doctor last night.
So this isn't really interesting, but there was this pediatrician who looked exactly like an older version of someone I knew in college who was pre-med. She was a roommate of a friend of mine (who I am no longer friends with). Anyway, I don't recall her going through a slutty phase like pretty much everyone else I knew in college. I wonder if she secretly did go through a slutty phase and I just didn't know about it. I wonder if she became a doctor. I hope she did because she is one of those people who I would feel comfortable taking my kids to see. My maid of honor, N, has a new sister in law who is a physician's assistant (or rather studying to be one) and I find it bothersome because she is SO rough around the edges and crude and, frankly, kind of dumb-seeming, that I wouldn't feel comfortable with her diagnosing anything. I mentioned to her at N's rehearsal dinner (N demanded that I chat her up after she noticed that I was being antisocial- which is true, but only because I was really tired.) Anyway, I mentioned to this girl in general that PA's are really in demand- she's going into a good career. She responded, 'Well, there are A LOT of us graduating right now.' She meant at her college. Umm... dude. One graduating class of PAs is not going to meet the demands of an entire economy- and I could tell from her response that that is exactly what she meant. Then I thought, 'Well, she's been studying sciences and maths all this time. Not really courses that force rational thought. Maybe that's why she comes across as so dumb.' Then I said to N, 'Dude, I can't believe she gets good grades. She seems really dumb.' And N was like, 'I KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!' And we had a wonderful "friend" moment at her sister-in-law's expense. Then her sister-in-law gave a cute little speech about loving N. Oops.
Anyway, H*llster saw this doctor that reminded me of that really good girl from my college, so I googled her and learned that she was recently married and lives in CA and she looks as pretty as ever and that made me happy. But there was no indication of whether she became a doctor. She went to Georgetown, which is unsurprising because while we were all drunk and making out with boys and each other on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights, she was studying really hard, but there was no indication of what she studied. I guess I just feel like if you're going to be that sober and serious at school, it should be worth it. Like, if I found out she was a marketing exec I'd be like, 'Well then what was the point of being so studious?' Isn't this messed up? I feel like because I am a mother of 2 daughters I should be like, 'Good for her for not compromising herself!' But I don't feel like my friends and I really compromised ourselves (most of the time. Heh), I just feel like we had a freaking awesome time. That said, I don't want my daughters to have as good of a time as I did.
After not to much waiting (young babies are apparently seen first, which makes sense), we got in and the doctors were unable to find a cause. Her ears were fine. They wanted to do all this crazy testing (spin*al tap, etc..) and we said "Not yet" to most of it because... because. I don't know. What if she was just having a bad day? What if she is secretly just becoming colicy? I have no clue. But my ear hurts and I'm still not sure we made the right decision. But I spoke with my pediatrician this morning and he thinks I did, so that makes me feel better. But my ear still hurts. In fact, it has hurt for 6 weeks- the age of the baby. When I don't get enough sleep, my tonsils and ears always ache. Why didn't anybody remove my g-dd-mn tonsils when I was young? Those things are the size of golfballs, I kid you not. Every time a doctor is like "Open wide" and I open my mouth, without fail he or she will comment that I have the largest tonsils they have ever seen. Well, they are also sore about 99% of the time. I'm about to rip them out myself. Can you tell I need sleep? My mom is hear watching the kiddos so that I can nap, not blog. But I really wanted to blog about the doctor last night.
So this isn't really interesting, but there was this pediatrician who looked exactly like an older version of someone I knew in college who was pre-med. She was a roommate of a friend of mine (who I am no longer friends with). Anyway, I don't recall her going through a slutty phase like pretty much everyone else I knew in college. I wonder if she secretly did go through a slutty phase and I just didn't know about it. I wonder if she became a doctor. I hope she did because she is one of those people who I would feel comfortable taking my kids to see. My maid of honor, N, has a new sister in law who is a physician's assistant (or rather studying to be one) and I find it bothersome because she is SO rough around the edges and crude and, frankly, kind of dumb-seeming, that I wouldn't feel comfortable with her diagnosing anything. I mentioned to her at N's rehearsal dinner (N demanded that I chat her up after she noticed that I was being antisocial- which is true, but only because I was really tired.) Anyway, I mentioned to this girl in general that PA's are really in demand- she's going into a good career. She responded, 'Well, there are A LOT of us graduating right now.' She meant at her college. Umm... dude. One graduating class of PAs is not going to meet the demands of an entire economy- and I could tell from her response that that is exactly what she meant. Then I thought, 'Well, she's been studying sciences and maths all this time. Not really courses that force rational thought. Maybe that's why she comes across as so dumb.' Then I said to N, 'Dude, I can't believe she gets good grades. She seems really dumb.' And N was like, 'I KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!' And we had a wonderful "friend" moment at her sister-in-law's expense. Then her sister-in-law gave a cute little speech about loving N. Oops.
Anyway, H*llster saw this doctor that reminded me of that really good girl from my college, so I googled her and learned that she was recently married and lives in CA and she looks as pretty as ever and that made me happy. But there was no indication of whether she became a doctor. She went to Georgetown, which is unsurprising because while we were all drunk and making out with boys and each other on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights, she was studying really hard, but there was no indication of what she studied. I guess I just feel like if you're going to be that sober and serious at school, it should be worth it. Like, if I found out she was a marketing exec I'd be like, 'Well then what was the point of being so studious?' Isn't this messed up? I feel like because I am a mother of 2 daughters I should be like, 'Good for her for not compromising herself!' But I don't feel like my friends and I really compromised ourselves (most of the time. Heh), I just feel like we had a freaking awesome time. That said, I don't want my daughters to have as good of a time as I did.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Sunday
On Sundays J watches a great deal of Ho*lmes on Homes- a home improvement show. J has a fascination for home improvements and always gets upset that he doesn't know a lot about construction and stuff. I try to placate him by explaining that it is the career of most men to know about that stuff- the whole time he was in school majoring in English and studying Law, other people were learning how to build and fix crap either as a job or in their spare time. So he shouldn't know how to do it- unless that's what he spent his time doing. Which he didn't.
Who cares, right?
Well unfortunately for me and my house- I have to. Each weekend J wants to start these major improvements himself. He'll read a 1 paragraph explanation about how to do it online, grab his tools and get to it. And it almost always ends in us having to call a professional to fix it and do it right.
Example: Right after H*llary was born, he decides he wants to fix the toilet in our guest bathroom because it runs too slowly. He asked what I thought and I said, "Fine"- he gets really really sensitive if I imply or note that he may not be able to do this correctly. It speaks directly towards his manhood and this is very frustrating. I never even noticed this slow running toilet, but apparently it's slow and needs to be fixed ASAP. J announces "I'm going to Lowe's," returns with toilet parts and is working on the toilet for hours. He emerges from the bathroom to announce that "nobody can use that toilet until we call a plumber." Mind you, it was the Saturday of Labor Day. No plumber for at least 3 days and visitors pretty much EVERY day. This meant that visitors would have to use OUR bathroom - which meant that we'd have to keep our room really clean. On top of already having to keep the rest of the house clean. I mean... dude. Really? I sort of lost it- I explained to him the grave inconvenience of both his timing (new baby= visitors and a sleepy mom who now has MORE work to do) and the fact that he created more work for me and that he turned a "slow" toilet into a broken one. I asked why he can't just put it back together the way it was. He gave me this long explanation of how our plumbing is from like 1900 and he didn't anticipate this and blah blah. He also asked me why I didn't point this out to him (the fact that if he messed up, all visitors would have to use our bathroom).
Yesterday he announced throughout the day the following:
1. He was going to get a new doorknob for the screen door to the front of our house. I pointed out to him that this door is really old and its unlikely as simple as "screwing in a new doorknob." So we probably shouldn't try to fix the doorknob until we are straight up ready for a new door. He agreed- very painfully and hesitantly.
2. He was going to "fix" the light switch in our dining room and bathroom so that the dimmer switches worked. I reminded him that there is plenty to be done around the house and that project can wait. He bought tools to sand the rust off our iron railing out front and then planned on repainting it. After he bought the tools, he spent 3 minutes sanding it and then lost interest. I told him he could always sand down the railing today if he wanted. He did not like this answer, but let go of the light swithc.
3. He took Monkey out on our balcony and noticed rotting wood that we thought we had gotten fixed 1.5 years ago. A contractor puttied it up or something. J goes to inspect. My heart dropped. He came back and said we need to get this rotting wood fixed immediately because the rot could travel to other important wooden beams in our house. I asked if he took out the putty that we had paid a contractor to put there (Need I ask?) Yes, he said. Of course.
Honestly, we've put THOUSANDS into our house this year as a direct result of that show. I can't handle it. EVERY TIME IT COMES ON, J thinks he's a contractor and, while he is a smart dude, he knows NOTHING about houses. He's an alarmist- always convinced our house is in this grave condition and must be fixed immediately. He actually overthinks everything and as a result of being married to him, I have the most keen bullsh*t detector when it comes to his train of thought. The second he starts to talk out of his a$$ about something, I can tell immediately just by the tone of his voice. If he read this entry, he would never talk to me again. Last night he told me that he finds it very insulting that I act like he knows nothing about home repairs. I told him, 'I will not comment ever again when you want to repair something- upon 2 conditions: 1. you put your tools away when you are done (which he never does) and 2. the item is in no WORSE condition than it was when you started.
Who cares, right?
Well unfortunately for me and my house- I have to. Each weekend J wants to start these major improvements himself. He'll read a 1 paragraph explanation about how to do it online, grab his tools and get to it. And it almost always ends in us having to call a professional to fix it and do it right.
Example: Right after H*llary was born, he decides he wants to fix the toilet in our guest bathroom because it runs too slowly. He asked what I thought and I said, "Fine"- he gets really really sensitive if I imply or note that he may not be able to do this correctly. It speaks directly towards his manhood and this is very frustrating. I never even noticed this slow running toilet, but apparently it's slow and needs to be fixed ASAP. J announces "I'm going to Lowe's," returns with toilet parts and is working on the toilet for hours. He emerges from the bathroom to announce that "nobody can use that toilet until we call a plumber." Mind you, it was the Saturday of Labor Day. No plumber for at least 3 days and visitors pretty much EVERY day. This meant that visitors would have to use OUR bathroom - which meant that we'd have to keep our room really clean. On top of already having to keep the rest of the house clean. I mean... dude. Really? I sort of lost it- I explained to him the grave inconvenience of both his timing (new baby= visitors and a sleepy mom who now has MORE work to do) and the fact that he created more work for me and that he turned a "slow" toilet into a broken one. I asked why he can't just put it back together the way it was. He gave me this long explanation of how our plumbing is from like 1900 and he didn't anticipate this and blah blah. He also asked me why I didn't point this out to him (the fact that if he messed up, all visitors would have to use our bathroom).
Yesterday he announced throughout the day the following:
1. He was going to get a new doorknob for the screen door to the front of our house. I pointed out to him that this door is really old and its unlikely as simple as "screwing in a new doorknob." So we probably shouldn't try to fix the doorknob until we are straight up ready for a new door. He agreed- very painfully and hesitantly.
2. He was going to "fix" the light switch in our dining room and bathroom so that the dimmer switches worked. I reminded him that there is plenty to be done around the house and that project can wait. He bought tools to sand the rust off our iron railing out front and then planned on repainting it. After he bought the tools, he spent 3 minutes sanding it and then lost interest. I told him he could always sand down the railing today if he wanted. He did not like this answer, but let go of the light swithc.
3. He took Monkey out on our balcony and noticed rotting wood that we thought we had gotten fixed 1.5 years ago. A contractor puttied it up or something. J goes to inspect. My heart dropped. He came back and said we need to get this rotting wood fixed immediately because the rot could travel to other important wooden beams in our house. I asked if he took out the putty that we had paid a contractor to put there (Need I ask?) Yes, he said. Of course.
Honestly, we've put THOUSANDS into our house this year as a direct result of that show. I can't handle it. EVERY TIME IT COMES ON, J thinks he's a contractor and, while he is a smart dude, he knows NOTHING about houses. He's an alarmist- always convinced our house is in this grave condition and must be fixed immediately. He actually overthinks everything and as a result of being married to him, I have the most keen bullsh*t detector when it comes to his train of thought. The second he starts to talk out of his a$$ about something, I can tell immediately just by the tone of his voice. If he read this entry, he would never talk to me again. Last night he told me that he finds it very insulting that I act like he knows nothing about home repairs. I told him, 'I will not comment ever again when you want to repair something- upon 2 conditions: 1. you put your tools away when you are done (which he never does) and 2. the item is in no WORSE condition than it was when you started.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Blah
About 15 minutes ago I was feeding the baby when she coughed and then vomited all over me. This was about an hour after Monkey woke from her nap with a cough that sounded like croup. Did I mention that both me and the baby have had evil colds since Sunday? I was under the impression that we were both on the mend, until her recent vomiting episode- is she sick or did I simply overfeed her or did she just swallow too much mucus? Your guess is as good as mine. And then I saw Monkey sort of play with her ear at breakfast. Ear infection? Who knows? Should I send her to daycare for the morning? I didn't think so, but J did. So I figured okay and I would spend the day decontaminating and spraying everything with Lysol.
I would write more, but my smallest munchkin desperately wants to nap on me right now and I must oblige!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)