For sanity's fucking sake

I feel as though, once again, I have my very own stalker.

Wait…let me rephrase that. My MUNCHKIN has her own stalker. Yes, already, at only 16 months.

This person’s name…MIL.

Let me begin by saying she is driving me up the mother fucking wall, across the ceiling, and back down again. She has to know every single itty bitty detail of munchkin’s existence. And it doesn’t help that the hubs fuels the fire by telling her nearly every single itty bitty detail.

For example, last week’s night with Linda Blair. Hubs told MIL about it, so the next day, FIL sends an email to me. I reply with what happened and how munchkin was doing, which was perfectly fine. MIL decides to send me an email about it later in the afternoon, to which I did not reply because I was actually working. At around 5:15, MIL calls. I was rocking munchkin, so I missed her call. Forty-five minutes later, MIL calls again. This time munchkin was sleeping in my arms, so I didn’t answer. Another 45 mother fucking minutes later, she calls again. This time, I was cooking, and my phone was nowhere near me. I called her back about 20 minutes later, and guess what…she is on the other line and doesn’t answer. I’m thinking, unreal. FIL calls me like 10 minutes after this. We talk a little more about munchkin and the dinner we had together just the night before (they were here the 3rd – 6th…all these effin phone calls took place the 7th). I say goodnight to FIL, and we hang up. Less than five minutes later, MIL calls me for the fourth fucking time, I shit you not. I see her name on the caller ID and think, YOU’VE GOT TO BE SHITTING ME!!! What does she want to know? The same shit I just got through telling FIL. He told her everything I said, but she “just had to talk to me herself.” Ho-ly smokes.

So Friday rolls around, and the hubs is deployed for his every-eight-weeks-two-week-tour. The munchkin and I decide to go visit him for the weekend because of Easter. I get a text from none other than MIL while I was driving asking if I was getting off early. I carefully texted back, “already on the road.” Oh, I have to say that the night before, she sent me an email telling me to let her know when we left the house to go see hubs and when we arrived at said destination. Ho-ly balls, my own mother doesn’t keep tabs on us like this. When we arrived, I asked the hubs, “Have you spoken to your parents yet?” “No, is something wrong?” he replies. I immediately texted my FIL for fear of another effin phone call. I didn’t hear back from him until around 9:00 when he texted, “Good. We were just getting ready to call.”

On Sunday, we left the hubs around noon (it’s about a three hour drive). I got a phone call from none other than my MIL when we were only 20 minutes from home.

MIL “When are you leaving?”
Me “I’m driving now.”
MIL “Is the hubs asleep?”**
Me “How the fuck would I know? I’m DRIVING.” No, I didn’t really say this, though I was TOTALLY thinking it. I said, “I have no idea. We’re only 20 minutes from home.”
MIL “Oh, well, I called him a few times, but he didn’t answer.”

Hellllloooo?!? He’s probably sleeping for Christ’s sake! He works the 11pm-6am shift, woman!! She then proceeds to go on about something, and all the while the munchkin is getting cranked up. She is so ready to get out of that car seat, and it’s all I can do to keep her occupied. MIL hears her getting upset, acknowledges it, but doesn’t stop talking. She keeps going on about the stuff she’s collecting for the munchkin to use while we are on vacation in a few months. Do I give a rat’s ass right now? Um, no. Is it illegal to drive and talk on the phone in my state? Hell-to-the-yes. Does she know this? Ding ding ding!! My frustration was mounting when she finally says, “Well, it sounds like you’re nearly home, so I’ll let you go.” Praise the sweet Lord for His mercy.

Is there really any question as to why my phone stays on vibrate 24 hours/day?

**Obviously, MIL did not say “the hubs,” but for sanity’s sake, his name will be left out.

My night with Linda Blair

So last night, the munchkin and I were in bed, and she was having her nighttime bottle (yes, we do that…for now). She was slurping it down pretty fast. She pushed the bottle away from her mouth when she was done (like normal) but then she sat up pretty quickly. She laid her head on my stomach, sat up again, and then puked all over my chest and stomach. Before I could get the lamp on, she laid her head back down on my chest…in the barf.

The part I was most bothered by was seeing the right side of her face covered in puke. Before I sat up, I pulled her shirt off and wiped her face with it (as she started squealing in delight). I ripped the barf-stained comforter off, followed by my shirt (this took careful planning as I had to avoid any pouring off onto the carpet). In the bathroom, I wiped myself off really well, tipped my head forward, and still smelled sour milk. I had to give both of us a sponge bath in the sink (a second shower was just not an option…we took a shower together only thirty minutes before this). Amazingly, none got in my hair. I rinsed our shirts off in the shower and then had to clean out the green beans left in the drain.

I had just put new sheets on the bed not ten minutes before this nightmare, so I had to re-make it. We had to go back downstairs so that I could deposit the barf-stained linens at the washing machine area and to get the munchkin a new shirt. I ended up heating about 5 oz. of milk for her, but I was extremely hesitant about it. I tried to put her back down without the milk, but she was having too much fun bouncing around the bed (especially since Daddy wasn’t there to take up half the bed). I only let her have an ounce of milk, but that was enough to put her out. She slept fine after that and woke up as perky as ever.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could all have a barfing episode only to come out of it happy and feeling like a million bucks? I think I’d weigh a hell of a lot less.

The devil hunts Easter eggs

Tonight the hubs heads out for DC once again. This time the munchkin and I will be going to visit. We’re heading down on Friday and coming back Sunday. I’m not so thrilled about not going to church on Easter (yes, we are those people that only go to church on holidays…I don’t like this, but it’s just the way it is until we agree on a denomination), but at least we’ll be spending time together as a family. I’m praying that the weather will be nice so that we can have a picnic at one of the memorial parks. I’ve got the munchkin’s Easter basket goodies all ready to go, and I plan on dying a half dozen eggs that she can hunt.

While we’re on the topic of Easter egg hunts…what is it about mean-ass kids and hunting fucking plastic eggs? The hubs’ work had an Easter egg hunt on Saturday, and the first kids to go were 3 and under. We only had about 30 seconds to hunt before the big kids broke out of their cage. This wasn’t the plan, but those kids couldn’t contain themselves any longer. I was coaxing my munchkin to an egg, and she was only a foot away when these two brats ran up and grabbed the egg. I gave them my dirtiest look, and let me tell you, I hope their stupid mothers saw. Just a word of advice…please teach your children that it is NOT polite to steal Easter eggs from babies.

Saturday I head to The Container Store in Arlington, VA. I am SO excited!!! I’ve never been but have perused through their website several times eyeing things I want. There is just something about organizational items that gets my blood pumpin’. Bacon keeper, here I come!

I will end with a poem from Office Haiku: Poems Inspired by the Daily Grind by James Rogauskas:

Late afternoon cup –
The coffee is cold and stale.
Drink it anyway.

Leavin' on a jet plane

I couldn’t dread a tropical vacation more than I do the trip to St. Thomas in June. To make matters worse, the hubs says to me…

“I need you to take a half day to go to Cape May with me before we go to St. Thomas.”

“Why?”

“So we can go to legal…”

End conversation.

Cue crying.

It absolutely terrifies me to think about leaving my munchkin. I honestly want to cancel our trip. Actually, I’m seriously considering flying my mom out to meet us there so that she can watch the munchkin while we enjoy ourselves. I don’t think she’d mind babysitting in paradise for free.

He then adds, "We have to do it because we're both going to be on a plane, and she won't be with us." Cue hysteria.

Tell me (if anyone still reads this blog), when did you first leave your child? Was it the hardest thing ever? How old was your child?

When I think about our vacation, my hands begin to sweat, my heart rate skyrockets, and I get highly emotional. My therapist says this isn’t good.

Cue the medication.

*SIGH*

I feel like life is lived by waiting on the next event. This past year and a half (almost) has been the happiest of my life, but it’s as though we’re always waiting on the next trip, vacation, family visit, etc. I just wish we could ignore the impending and thoroughly enjoy the now. My baby is growing up fast before my eyes…she’s already saying “thank you” and “uh-oh,” knows what a “kissy” is, knows what to do to put her jacket on. She runs and screams with delight. She loves the outdoors and cries when we have to come inside. She already knows and understands so much. I just want to be able to observe her more, to make thousands of mental notes about every move she makes just so I will never forget. I want to remember every smile, every tear, every laugh, every hug, every kiss, every everything.

Life, in essence, is just too damn fast.

The Weather

Just a quick post to tell y'all how EFFING BEAUTIFUL this weekend has been! It was nearly 70 yesterday and 77 today.

This was last weekend, if you can believe it. We got nearly 12 inches after it was all said and done!!

SNOW DAY!!!

The hubs and I are the only two idiots in the state to be excited about all this snow. Over 10 INCHES, to be precise. The munchkin's daycare is closed, and neither of us had to go to work.