Most Mean Musings to my Menacing Menses: Guest post by A Mother Life

Most Mean Musings to my Menacing Menses-An Open Letter

Hey there, I'm Molley from www.amotherlife.com. Today I'm helping our friend Peanut Layne out, She's having some health problems and we have gathered around like a good blogging family does to help her keep things going here... Today I'm writing a letter to my period to discuss the fact that it's not really working out between us....


Dear Period,

We've been together now for 33 years, that's along time. That's 12 times a year for 33 years minus the pregnancies of course.........(12x33)-(2x9) is a whole lotta math and I'm not that committed but we have to co-habit this body for a little while longer and I'm starting to get really annoyed. You used to be short and to the point, regular and oh so considerate...... Pain was not part of your repertoire.

These days you're a real bitch, it's like you are deliberately out to get me, you threaten for days then fail to arrive, then when I think you're not coming and begin to rejoice in my next chapter....BAM you are right there loud and proud!

Bringing your heavy artillery with you, ALL your nasty tricks. What is it with you and the donkey punches from inside? Oh and how can that much solid/liquid come out of one small space? Isn't my uterus the size of a grapefruit?

Then you stay, like a bad house guest, way beyond your welcome.....

The King is mighty frustrated too. My constant state of flux is making it difficult with our boudoir action, well his.....my '5-7 days' mantra is making me look like a liar....Not to mention I'm pretty sick of giving blow jobs.

Why are you doing this to me? Is it your last ditch effort to assert your authority before I kick you to the curb and swap tampons and liner for depends? Oh wait... I already have those...

You are no longer my friend. Not that I really consider you one. Just an annoying neighbour perhaps, that wouldn't move away.

This may be hard for you to hear but I'm breaking up with you. I don't need you in my life anymore.....My need for you has ceased. You've worn out your welcome. Sure you helped me get my babies, and I am grateful...but the last one of those was almost 9 years ago. You can't make me have any more, I got that sorted years ago, so consider this your notice.

You are unemployed from this body. Go find someone else to fuck over for 30 odd years....

Thanks

Molley

Screw You Jetsons: Guest post by Momaical

Screw You Jetsons

By Tracy @ http://Momaical.com

 Being sick sucks.  Being sick while Mommying – that’s a whole new level of hideous slapped on a pile of illin’. Because on top of trying not to ruin yet another pair of pants to a bout of coughing – you have tiny people who want you to do super important things for them any time you take 37 seconds for yourself.  “Mommy!  I need you to sew this hole in this princess dress that I haven’t worn in so long that I forgot I own it! And I need you to do it NOW.”  All you want to do is lie in a pile of your own self-loathing and cough syrup and have everyone LEAVE YOU THE EFF ALONE!  But, no one does.  Except for the times that they DO.  And, that generally is even worse.  You sit through one peaceful episode of Hoarders and realize – Oh. Crap.  It’s too quiet.  You somehow claw your way out of the infirm and discover that the kids are running around the back yard trying to play parachute with the train of your wedding gown.  You want to convince yourself the scene is really a fever induced mirage – but it’s not.  And then they let the dog escape, leave the refrigerator open and have dipped into your hidden stash of Girl Scout cookies instead of eating “yunch” that you somehow scraped together.  Then your husband has to work late and comes home with a sniffle and retires to bed, leaving you in your fever stupor with a house full of assholes that you can’t get rid of because you gave birth to them.

Now, trade that out with a mystery illness.  It’s like that episode of Go Diego Go when they found the mystery fish.  She was lost and didn’t know how to get back to her kin so they had to follow the clues to discover she was a whale shark.  Except your clues are like a fucked up treasure hunt of body parts breaking down.  And, you don’t have time to go to the doctor’s because you still have those aforementioned kids that want peanut butter sandwiches without the crust but NOT ON THAT BREAD! YOU KNOW I HATE THAT BREAD!  And the others are wrestling around and breaking crap. And you’re bitter because it wasn’t supposed to be this way by the time we got to this point in our lives.  This was the FUTURE dammit.  And the future was supposed to have all this cool stuff in it.

If the Jetsons taught me anything, it was that we are going to have Rosie the Robot to take care of our houses, children, chores, etc.  The closest thing we have to that is a Roomba.  And, unless you enjoy munching on dust bunnies it does NOT do the job that Rosie would have done.  And there is supposed to be a machine that you put your kids through and they come out freshly pressed, fed and sparkling. None of which we have: no automatic dog walkers, no flying cars, no pills that turn into a four course meal.  Which is crap, Jetsons. Crap.

Since the future did not follow through as promised – I’m taking you back to a time when things were more selfish.  More delusional.  More narcissistic.  Clearly I’m talking about high school.  A time when you still believe that Orwell’s prediction about Big Brother was still possible. So, sit back, grab a cough drop and remember how something as silly as a sweater can be an obsession for you.

If I was to write a song – this would be it.  The Sweater Song by Meryn Cadell

Feel better soon Ms. Layne.  We love you! xoxoxox

Guest Post by Karen at Baking In A Tornado

Can I have the microphone turned on? And the spotlight over here please? (squinting) Thank you. Hello? Hello? Can everyone hear me now? Oh, good.

I know my voice is a little shaky, but I’m really nervous. This is the big leagues and today is opening day. I’m visiting here on Peanut Layne and I want to do my friend proud. At the very least, I hope to do no harm.

OK, introduction: my name is Karen and I blog over at www.BakingInATornado.com. Let me start off by apologizing. I know it’s disappointing to expect to see the Star and end up with the Understudy, but lucky for me you didn’t buy your ticket so I won’t be responsible for your refund.

So Peanut Layne is out of commission for a while (no, I did not hurt her to get a spot on her blog). In her place, I’m offering you a smorgasbord of posts and bloggers. We’ll try to hold down the fort until she returns. Stick with us I’m just the opening act, warming up the audience, as it were. It’ll get better, I promise.

Peanut usually tells you about the goings on in her home, which are always hilarious. My kids are now teenagers, and as much as I love embarrassing them in their current life forms, the story I’m sharing today is from years ago.

Let me start by telling you that we live nowhere near any family. We’re from the East Coast, but my husband was recruited by a company in the Midwest, so ten days after we got married, and on the promise that it would be only for two years, I packed up two years worth of make-up (in case you can’t buy make-up in the Midwest) and moved. Two years is now around 20, but that’s a whole other story.

Ever since moving here, family visits went from the Saturday afternoon barbecues of my youth to a two week stay . . . in my home. It’s an adjustment. When YOUR family comes, you sort of know what to expect because, well, you’ve lived with them before. When the in-laws come, that’s a whole different can of . . . something. What I learned is that when my in-laws were here, it was a good idea to have something scheduled for my husband and father-in-law to do to keep them busy.

When my kids were a baby and a toddler, my Mom bought them their first swing set. It was right before my in-laws were due for a visit and I couldn’t have been happier. My mother-in-law would help with the baby and my husband and his father could build the swing set.

It was a metal swing set and had all the bells and whistles. Each day the men would go out back. My father-in-law would squint at the directions, my husband would search through 7 billion pieces that looked nothing like the pictures of enclosed parts, and my toddler would grab hammers and wrenches and take turns banging on the metal, banging on his father’s toes and banging on his grandfather’s kneecaps.

For five long days my mother-in-law and I watched out the window, laughing till we cried, as the older men tried to get that thing standing and the little one tried to kill them. 

And on the fifth day, the sun rose in the East, and as it set in the West, 3 tired men approached bearing gifts. OK, it was the leftover bolts they couldn’t figure out what to do with, but the swing set was up. And it was a beauty. They were so darn proud of themselves.

The next morning while admiring our beautiful new swing set, we noticed over the back fence, the neighbor and his Dad putting up a swing set. The exact same one. Two hours, three tops. I bet there were no pieces left over, either.

So that’s it for today. Please come back often to see who’ll be filling in next. And if you’re still looking for a refund for today, I’ll get Peanut Layne’s address for you . . .

One of those posts where I try to explain why I haven't been around

This is one of those lovely little posts where I explain why I haven't been posting.  Do you really care?  Probably not, but since I love my readers and I feel like a giant hairy butt crack for disappearing, I figured I owed you guys an explanation.  It's probably way too personal and too much information, but I feel like it's silly to hold it in because really it's nothing I did wrong.  It's just something crappy that happened to me and I know there are millions of people out there struggling with chronic illness, just like myself.

That said it's no secret my health sucks.  I've posted about my IC (Interstitial Cystitis) before.  I wish I could say that IC was the only thing i'm dealing with, but it's not.  I've been pretty much bed ridden this past week and not with the typical crapola that everyone else is dealing with.  I wish it was as simple as the flu, or a cold.  Trust me I would love me some bronchitis right about now!   I have always suffered with mouth ulcers (canker sores). Not just any old canker sores.  I'm talking sores so big and painful I can't eat or sleep for days, sometimes weeks, and I get them all over the inside of my mouth and even inside of my throat.  I started getting them when I was 5 and I always have an ulcer.  My outbreaks vary in severity but they are always there.  Sometimes I only have a few, other times (like this recent outbreak), they have pretty much destroyed my life with the pain and severity.   They are not contagious at all, but they sure do hurt like hell.  Again, these are not your typical canker sores. I've done everything I can to try and prevent them.  I found an SLS free toothpaste, I cut out acidic foods, I have tried every kind of home remedy and vitamin treatment out there with absolutely no results.  Aside from the mouth sores, i've been in pain.  Mind bending freaking pain.  All over body pain that feels like I ran 10 miles or have the flu.  It's a very deep pain, all over my entire body that is hard to describe. Ibuprofen doesn't touch it.  And then there's the fatigue that's so bad I can't get out of bed sometimes.

Now that I have built this post up all dramatic and you're probably at home eating a donut and reading this and yelling at your computer screen  "Hurry up and just SPILL it lady", I went to my doc to talk to him about my suspicion of having a disease called Behcet's.  It's an extremely rare autoimmune disorder, but also a type of vasculitis.  It was first brought to my attention by an urgent care doc last spring when I went to urgent care because my right eye was throbbing and he noticed my mouth ulcers and said, "You know there is an autoimmune disorder that causes both eye problems and mouth sores, right?"  I did not know that, but I went home and used Dr. Google and about fell out of my chair when I read about Behcet's.  I ran into the living room and started reading the symptoms off to my hubby who at first was reading something on his iphone and only pretending to listen to me, but after a few seconds was like "Wait, what did you just say? Read that last part again." Even my hubby who is a true skeptic was convinced I had Behcet's.  You're probably wondering why I didn't go to the doctor to be diagnosed last spring, but I have 5 kids and life got in the way.  Plus when you have lived in chronic, daily pain for 30 some years, you just kind of get used to it.  Sad, but true. In my defense, I actually did try to make an appointment with the only Behcet's specialist I could find online, but he doesn't see new patients without a physician's referral, so I put it on the back burner.

Then these past two weeks happened and i've been dealing with painful, hideous ulcers all over the inside of my mouth and throat (please don't try to Google them.  You will seriously regret it), I went to my doctor on Monday.  I was half expecting him to roll his eyes and tell me I was looney tunes to suggest I had such a rare disease (Behcet's was featured on TLC's Mystery Diagnosis), but he immediately started nodding his head and then spent about 20 minutes digging through my chart.  He seemed to be very deep in thought and was just reading through my chart and writing things down. My IC, IBS, fibro, chronic gastritis, skin problems such as daily hives, migraines, blurry vision, eye pain, vertigo, etc, they are all connected.  After an unusually lengthy appointment, my doc agreed that it does appear I have Behcet's.   I'm going to be referred to a rheumatologist once he can find one who even knows anything about Behcet's.  Behcet's is so rare that not many specialists are familiar with it.  There are only about 15,000 people in the United States who have Behcet's.  Lucky, lucky me.  I have so many mixed feelings about my diagnosis from relief to having that confirmation that i'm not crazy, to sadness that this is something that's not going to just go away because it's a doozy of a disease.

My doctor gave me some pain meds and those have been helping me sleep, but I still feel like poop.  I'm so tired that I haven't touched my computer in a few days.  I have barely touched my iphone.  Every little bit of my strength and energy is being used up taking care of the kids.  My hubby has been awesome throughout all of this.  He hasn't said a word about the fact that he has no clean laundry for work and that he will probably have to use a hand towel to dry off with after his shower.  He's actually doing laundry for me tonight because he's really a saint in disguise.

I don't know when this flare will pass and when i'll feel human again.  Sadly there is no cure for Behcet's, but hopefully I can get seen by a good specialist and find a treatment plan that helps me live a somewhat normal life. I need to rest. I have to rest.  It's not a choice anymore, it's a necessity.  I love you all and when I think of something really funny I promise i'll be back to post about it, soon!

A friend of mine with chronic health problems of her own posted this and I love it

Bengay, it's what's for dinner

The last few days have been miserable.  My insomnia has gotten worse, but now that i'm getting up at the butt-crack of dawn to drive small and large children to school, the sleep deprivation is really kicking in.  No more sleeping in to catch up on sleep, and there's no way I can take a nap during the day with just the boys home.  Not unless I want to be woken up by police banging on my door saying the kids were found 5 blocks away eating stuck on gum off the sidewalks.  Yep, that would be my kids, which is why I can't sleep when they are awake because they would either A) Escape and make the evening news or B) Completely destroy my house beyond all recognition.

Yesterday my joint pain reached an all time sucktastic number and I had to go to Winco.  Winco is bad enough when you're feeling 100%, but when you're in pain, it really sucks.  So, I did what I had to do.  I lathered myself up with Bengay and headed to the store.  It was disgusting, I won't lie.  I was gagging on my own stench, but since most of the shoppers at Winco are stinky stinkers, I figured no one would notice.  

Funny thing is I got to Winco, and didn't realize that I had a maroon colored washcloth stuck to my butt.  I'm assuming it was attached to my jeans since my bedroom consists of a volcano of clean towels and clothes that is clean but needs to be folded and put away.  I don't use Bounce Static Sheets, but I think I may start after this.  What's worse is I heard some women behind me giggling and saying, "How embarrassing" but of course I assumed they were talking about someone else.   They weren't.   

To really top things off I got into a small altercation in the dairy aisle.  Some jerkoff was blocking the aisle but I had just enough space to go through so I went for it.  I was deliriously tired, and so achy by this point that I could barely walk.  So I walk past him and he holds up his hand and makes this really annoying gesture to move over and says, "EXCUSE ME, can you move, THANK YOU" but not in a nice way.  Like a jerky, condescending, "I'm too cool for you" kind of tone and the dude was like 60! What the crap?! I would've thought he'd be turned on by my peppermint, Bengay-slathered body of pure arthritic sexy, but what do I know?  Anyways, normally I would've just ignored the jerk, but when you are hurting and dealing with painful autoimmune issues on little sleep, that's enough to send a good girl over the edge.  I gave him my look (which i've perfected over the years) and said, "I know you weren't talking to me like that".  He stopped at the end of the aisle and gave me a, "It's on like Donkey Kong stare".   Lucky for him I was hurting too badly to push my 100 lb cart back to the other end of the aisle so instead I mouthed the words, "YOU ARE RUDE"…okay, okay, it was really something like, "YOU ARE AN ASS" and continued on my way…with a red washcloth stuck to my butt.  

I got home and removed the washcloth and then started dinner.  Gluten free pancakes.  Yeah.  As if my day wasn't bad enough, I had to make gluten free freaking pancakes.  If you're wondering if they taste like regular pancakes, they don't. Luckily the kids and the hubby ate them, but I went to bed hungry, as I was much too tired and sore to fix something else to eat.  By that point I almost debated licking the Bengay off of my arms.  It's minty with a hint of ass. Not that i've ever tasted ass (I swear I haven't, but if you have please keep that info to yourself).   See, this is what happens when I blog with sleep deprivation.  Nothing good comes out of it.  

My secret subject swap revealed!

This is the third Secret Subject Swap i've participated in now (I think), created by Karen at Baking in a Tornado.  16 bloggers came up with a subject or prompt for another blogger and in turn we were assigned one to blog about as well. Today we're spilling the beans about our secret subject.

My secret subject was "I will NEVER again take my kids to the...." by http://dinoheromommy.com

My first thought was, "Wait, I only get to pick just one?" When you have 5 kids every single outing is a circus side show. I'm the frazzled mom who looks like I should have the Supernanny and a camera crew trailing behind me taking notes on my multiple parenting failures and faux pas.

Honestly I try to leave my kids at home as much as possible. I go grocery shopping at night when the kiddies are fast asleep. I go to the post office, well never. Ok, only when my older kids are home to watch their sibs. The only time i'd ever take my kids to the post office is if it suddenly became legal to mail them to their grandparents in California for a surprise visit.

So I started thinking, "Hmmm, when is the last time I took my kids on a disastrous outing, where I was knee deep in the pits of hell?" Ding, ding, ding! It didn't take long to think of one and a Taylor Swift song suddenly popped into my head....

We eeeee are never ever ever going back to Walgreens. Like ever. 

The day was Dec.8th and my hubby was away in Seattle at a UFC fight for his birthday while poor little old me was left to deal with the 3 youngest kids alone. My teens were gone at bio dad's for the weekend. I was really truly on my own for the weekend. Gulp! To top it all off my 8 y/o daughter had a birthday party to go to in a nearby town. No biggie right? All I had to do was load up the boys and drop her off at the party. Piece of cake! We had already purchased a present a couple of days before the party (check one), wrapped it (check two), and mapquested the location (check three). Dang this momma was on fire!!!  We were good to go, so I thought.  I casually checked the invite one last time for good measure and that's when sheer panic set in. It was a joint sibling party and we had only bought ONE gift! How could I have missed this?!

Since the siblings were several years apart in age it wasn't like they could share a gift, plus I didn't want to be the cheap bastard showing up with the ugliest, crappiest minivan in the entire school district with one gift. So I had two options. Learn origami in 15 minutes with a piece of already scribbled on notebook paper or go to the store with an 8, 5, and almost 3 year old. I tried to make an origami duck but it looked like a vagina that used to be a penis but then went through a sex change. I couldn't show up at a party with an obscene gift and a broke down minivan that hasnt been washed since, hmmm, I honestly can't remember. Okay option two it was!

I loaded up the 3 Musketeers and off we went. I made sure to give the, "Remember, we're only going to the store to buy a birthday present for Ellen.  That's IT. I'm not buying you guys any toys, candy, food items, or anything else. I don't care if they end up having a Chia Pet shaped like Spongebob. I'm not buying it so don't even ask."  They nodded their little heads in agreement and gave me their solemn oath, "We'll behave mom, we promise." Apparently my kids are gearing up to be great politicians someday.

The closest store to us was Walgreens and since their toy selection sucks, I figured it would be a safe bet. I really shouldn't bet. Ever. My daughter Bo's quickly found a small pink glittery unicorn for Ellen and all was going well until my son looked up and saw a Mr. Toad plush from Super Mario Bros., something he's been asking for and wanting for a long time. I took a deep breath and prepared for battle.

My 5 y/o, "M" immediately squealed and placed Toad securely under his arm. I knew I was in trouble. I tried to calmly explain to M that Christmas was in a couple of weeks and that we weren't buying Toad today. I reminded him on his oath he had taken just a few minutes prior to entering the store. I reminded him of my "We're not here to buy toys" speech. This rationale might've worked on say a 30 year old, but my 5 y/o responded with, "No mom, we're buying him TODAY." Hmmm, not the reaction I was looking for. I once again told him to put Toad back on the shelf because we had to leave to get ready for the party. This time he proceeded to take off running around the corner while wailing, "NOOOOO, I WANT TOAD!!!" at the top of his lungs. I managed to run around the aisle and grab him and I felt the heat rise to my face. I could feel the disapproving looks from nosey shoppers. Yes, I was the mom with the bratty kid throwing a ginormous tantrum and it sucked!

After a few more pathetic attempts to try and pry Toad out of his kung fu grip, I began to feel defeated. I desperately needed back up. I needed my husband who would've simply picked him up and carried him straight to the car. But I was alone.  By this point I was humiliated, frustrated and not to mention, almost late for a party!  Peanut was happily playing with toys and jumping around in the aisle. My daughter was still clutching the small stuffed unicorn for Ellen. "Okay one kid out of three acting like Satan. I can handle this", I thought.  "I'll just buy him the stupid $8 mushroom and we can get the hell out of here! Damn those rich bastards who invented Super Mario Bros!"  I suddenly felt an urge to fly to Japan and kung fu some Japanese butt cracks! To make myself feel better I tried to reason with myself that I was doing the right thing. "You were going to buy him that Toad anyways. What's one little early Christmas present really gonna hurt? I'm not being weak, I just need to get out of this mother f@cking store!"

I told the kids it was time to go. Peanut and M start trailing behind me.  "We're gonna make it out of here" I start telling myself. Not even 2 seconds later I hear, "MOOOOM" coming from my 8 y/o. "You're buying M that toy? That's not fair! If he's getting Mr. Toad then I want this unicorn".

 What the F?!  Who in the hell has kids on purpose?!

I was screwed. No way was I buying a toy for Ellen, a toy for M and a toy for my daughter.  Did I mention Walgreens toys are grossly overpriced as it is?  I was angry. Like commando mommy angry. I grabbed the kids (who were all 3 wailing in perfect harmony) and drug them into the nearby aisle, which luckily contained laundry detergent instead of toys. I plopped their little hineys down on the cold cement floor. I got down on their level and threatened them with their lives (ok I didn't) but they knew they had pushed me over the edge as all 3 sat staring at me with wide eyes. Toad was successfully removed from M's kung fu grip and was now sitting next to some Magic Clean Erasers on the top shelf of the cleaning aisle.  An employee walked by and gave me that look like "You're still here?" I gave him the, "You say one word to me and I'm shoving this Swiffer so far up your ass you will be mopping the floor with your teeth" kinda look. He quickly looked away. Smart man.

After what felt like an eternity we actually made it up to the checkout counter.  I could see the double doors that led to the outside. I felt like a prisoner who was seeing a glimpse of daylight for the first time in months.  I plopped the silly looking unicorn on the counter and quickly pulled out my debit card.  "I had won this battle. I rock. Oh yeah, I'm the master" I told myself.  My celebratory thoughts were disrupted by the cashier, "Oh wait. There's a coupon for that unicorn."

Meanwhile I'm doing the starfish with my arms extended straight out at my sides with a toddler boy attached to each arm as I leaned forward while trying to block the candy bins with my droopy breasts. "No, it's fine" I tell her. "I'm kind of in a hurry."  Not picking up on my cues that I'm about to bop her over the head with a Pillow Pet she starts asking me questions about my name, address, phone number. At this point I didn't even know my own phone number. "Why do you heed to know this?" I ask her. "I'm signing you up for a rewards card. You'll save $4 off the unicorn".  I once again tried to tell her to forget it. I just wanted to pay and go.  She continued to ask me questions.  This lady was not going to stop so I gave her all the info in between screaming, "M put down the gum. Peanut drop the beef jerkey. No, Bo's we don't need a personal mustache trimmer."

After what felt like a good 10 minutes of giving her all of my personal info that the douche standing behind me was probably adding into his phone so he could steal my identity and drain my bank account, she hands me back my debit card and says, "I'm sorry maam. Apparently that discount is good on all stuffed toys except the unicorn."

And here's a picture of our lovely Mr Toad, courtesy of Santa, who got the distinct privilege of driving to every single flipping Walgreens in Portland just 2 days before Christmas because she waited until the last minute to go back and buy him.  

I love my husband but...

the man needs to go back to work!  J had some extra time off saved up and it was one of those use it or lose it situations so he has been off work since Dec. 19th.  I'm not kidding.  I have come to realize that if my hubby worked from home, we would most likely be divorced.

I long for my typical routine which is where the oldest three kids are at school, my hubby is at work, and it's just me and my baby boys home with me (well okay they aren't babies, they are three and five). I drank lots of coffee, watched lots of girly TV, and spent lots of time on my computer blogging and Twittering.

You may have noticed I haven't been around much.  Or maybe you haven't.  Or maybe you're enjoying the break and are like, "Dang, she's back already?"  Anyways, I blame my hubby for my lack of blogging because all of my bloggy motivation has been sucked out of my brain and I feel like i'm losing brain cells every single minute that he's home.  Seriously, the man has football or UFC blaring at all times.  Not to mention that I missed the opportunity to watch all of my favorite cheesy Christmas movies prior to Christmas because the hubby would walk into the living room, roll his eyes, and say, "Really babe? A Very Brady Christmas?" and then eventually Sports Center somehow ended up making it's way on the TV the very second I got up to pee.  I tried to hold my bladder, I really did, but eventually I had to go and the man was just waiting until I left the room and then BAM! It's a male take over.  I realize men don't typically like cheesy Christmas movies, but if I have to watch one more MMA fight, I might actually put my hubby in a guillotine (if you don't know what that means, consider yourself lucky).

Oh but don't get me wrong, we had some fun times too.  The other day he got a brilliant idea to clean out the garage. Hmmm, let's see, it was a Friday afternoon and cold as balls outside. Standing in the ice box I like to call the garage with frozen snot stuck to my face while J griped and moaned about how we have way too much kid crap was a perfect way to spend my Friday! I mean if I didn't have my dear hubby home to keep me busy, i'd probably be doing something dreadful like watching Roseanne re-runs or wasting time on Twitter.  Thank goodness he's home to keep me occupied!

Finally he has been great at keeping me on my gluten free/dairy free diet.  I especially love his phone calls while he's out:

J: Hey i'm at McDonald's.  Did you want a hot fudge sundae?

Me: Um, babe. I can't eat dairy.

J: So, that's a no then?

Me: That's a no.

J: Okay, well i'll just grab one for me and the kids then.  You sure you don't want me to grab you something?

Me: No, there's nothing I can eat there.

J: There's nothing you can eat here? (As if he's surprised that McDonald's isn't healthy and doesn't have a complete GFCF menu).

Me: NO, there's NOTHING I can eat at McDonald's.

J: Okay, well then i'll be home with food for me and the kids.

Me: Great (followed by pouting and extreme irritation) as I go into the kitchen and eat rice crackers (which taste like hockey pucks) dipped in hummus.

The hubby actually goes back to work tomorrow and i'm sure i'll miss him when he's gone.  That's the part that makes our marriage work though.  I think it's healthy to have some time away from your spouse.  I want to miss him.  I need to miss him.  It's not normal to be together every day for weeks on end with no time apart.  Not normal at all.  Someday when we're old and retired and the kids are gone, maybe things will be different and i'll appreciate the endless days of us just being together for hours on end without a break (or not and we'll be that old couple that none of the nursing assistants want to work with because we're so crabby and difficult).  Until then I will bite my tongue, try to appreciate the last few hours of having my hubby home, and try to drown out the sounds of the Rose Bowl blaring in my living room.