In Mommyland that usually doesn't mean squat. I'm stuck with my kid every single day of the week. And Michael works shifts, so he doesn't have the 'normal' work schedule of Monday-Friday with weekends off. Today was his 4th day of working day shift, 7-7, and when he got home from work (and made me stop banging my head against the wall... just kidding...) I told him I hope he had some stored energy somewhere because I needed a BREAK.
Especially since he agree to work overtime on his scheduled weekend off...working Saturday and Sunday night shift (in addition to his scheduled Mon-Wed night shift...5 nights in a row...meh).
So my TGIF turned into OMGINSW (oh my gawd I need some wine) but I'm pregnant so let's change that to OMGINSCF (oh my gawd I need some cheese fries).
But no restaurant sells cheese fries around here. So I'm having to settle for some gummy fruit things that are made with real fruit juice and have lots of vitamin C.
A friend turned my frown upside down today with a simple text: 'have you heard of the bloggess?'
Oh. Em. Gee.
TheBloggess.com has had me laughing until I almost cried. Her name is Jenny Lawson and she's my new hero. She's hilarious. She writes how I wish I could write....but my mom reads my blog. And people I grew up in church with. So I keep it clean, because at the age of 33 I'm still scared to death of my mama.
Anways, it's Friday night. 5 years ago I would have been applying a 3rd layer of mascara at my best friend Paul's apartment and counting out my quarters to see how many vodka cranberries I would be able to afford that night. We would meet up with all of our single friends at some watering hole and have a great time griping about our lives until the bar turned on the lights and we had to make the important decision of 'french toast at Ihop or drive thru at McDonald's?' before taking a combination of Zantac and ibuprofen and falling in bed around 4am.
Shew. Just typing that out made me tired.
Now I'm married (to a guy I met at a bar...through a friend) and Friday night means...well, nothing. It's just another day. I do still get hyped up when I see all of my friends post TGIF!!! on facebook or '1 more hour until my weekend freedom!' and then I realize DAAANG Friday is just another day in Mommyland.
it's not that bad.
I mean yeah, Morgan has been a real stinkhole today. Neighbors on the next street over probably heard me scream at her 'STOP HITTING ME IN THE ELBOW WITH YOUR SIPPY CUP BECAUSE IT FRIGGIN HURTS!!!!!' and now I'm pretty exhausted. Just trying to find this website to type a blog.... I found myself typing jaimestratton....oh wait, that's my MAIDEN name I haven't used in almost 4 years.... jaimemccumbers.com which totally didn't work because I forget that I'm not important enough to have my own domain. And then I started giggling over a conversation Michael and I had through texts during his last long stretch of night shifts:
Michael: is she still awake?
Me: she got really cranky and then she finally passed on.
Michael: passed on?!!!
Me: oh crap, I mean passed out. I've been watching Ghost Whisperer on DVR.
And I thought that was funny enough to post on Facebook but totally screwed it up by typing Gosh Whisperer which my friends still make fun of me for (just because I call them out on every little grammatical error and typo they make means I'm a huge target)
And Michael just informed me that Grimm is NOT on tonight for who knows what reason (probably some stupid basketball game) and I'm ready to punch a baby whale.
Seriously....no cheese fries OR Grimm?!
Maybe I can at least get out of bath time...Michael made me a deal last week - if I started keeping the fire going in our basement dungeon, he would do bath time 3 times a week. I think he was 99.9% sure that my extreme fear of fire would guarantee his 9:00 freedom every night (that's the bathing hour). But seriously, sometimes I am shocked that he forgets how stubborn I am. I found a solution: when the fire completely dies down, I put on those fire glove thingies (along with a complete fireman suit and helmet...and boots), hold my breath as I open the door...and when no fire demons jump out at me I poke around with that long metal thingy to 'stir up the coals' (as I was instructed to do) and then jam about 5 logs in (along with several newspapers....because we have a huge stack and I want to get rid of them) and once I shut the door, there are flames!!! I get as excited as a Neanderthal each time I make a little fire, but it doesn't last very long because I refuse to put wood on the fire while it's still burning; I mean seriously, isn't that as brilliant as covering yourself with raw meat and jumping into shark infested waters? But once the fire goes out I start my little process all over again...but today I chose a huge log to shove in, and it never caught on fire. When Michael came home I pointed to it and said "I tried. I failed." To which he answered "I see that..." and after about 10 seconds he had a roaring fire.
He just walked by me, telling me that Morgan was snuggled down in her toddler recliner with her blankie watching cartoons so I reminded him 'umm it's almost bath time...and I've been keeping the fire going all week...remember our deal?'
He nodded and slowly said 'yeahhh...'
and I pointed to my laptop and said 'and I'm blogging about it to the world...'
Somebody somewhere please drink something for me...vodka, beer, moonshine, gasoline....whatever.