Let's back up a bit. You know (because I told you) that I don't like sharing my bed. Well, last night something snapped and I went all oh, hell no! on the girl. I told my husband that I was taking his love seat with a look that dared him to object, then I talked my brother into helping a lady out. (Yeah, "lady." Trust me, I earned it this week.) anyway, this...
Grandma for the win!!!
The living room looks empty and
the bedroom looks crowded
but I don't even care...
I sleep alone.
Even having my own bed, by the time I got done with laundry and waited impatiently through effing Mickey Mouse Club House and their irritating chatter for a chance to watch a documentary (doesn't even matter which one, I just love the voices) it was 1am before I fell asleep, 6:30am when Thing2 woke me up to take him to work. When I got home, Alex was standing at his door waiting for me. A clean diaper, breakfast and 30 minutes of Disney Jr later, he's sound asleep just in time to trade off with the Goofy one who drags the Little D with him.
Ok, fine. I'm up. for good. If I'm going to feel crappy today, I may as well feel pretty too. I left them with Black Ops II and went to get a shower and makeup to go with my pretty clothes and fabulous shoes. (yes, it matters. we're getting there.) When I feel put together on the outside, I feel less of a mess on the inside ... which tends to make me feel feisty. So, when my husband tells me what's on his to-do list today, I'm like, YEAH! Let's do this. ROAR! and all that cocky crap. You know what happens when you get cocky, right? uh-huh.
but not yet. First a bet is made. wagers placed. My husband was positive that these kids would be so bad. soooo bad. I knew better. I considered where we were going, I thought about what I know of these kids, I took in the mood they were in right then, I smiled and did what any red-blooded woman with these kinds of stakes would do. I cheated. I swore they would be good because I am good. That I anticipated what needed to be anticipated and packed well. My bet... their good behavior for a cappuccino. So, yeah, the cheating... their behavior had more to do with the environment- calm, quiet, ordered, contained- than suckers and Fruit Loops but come on, cappuccino. of the extreme caffeine variety. Tell me you wouldn't do the same.
Good thing the bet was just for the Social Security office because all hell broke loose at Wal-Mart. Whoever thinks the crazy bad kids congregate in the toy aisle have never seen my legion of evil crash through the clothing department. Including Alex. I mostly avoided having to pick up clothes and was about to do a victory dance on the outskirts of the clothing department when I ended up on my knees in front of Alex, one of his hands tangled in the back of my hair, the other trying to rip my shirt off while I put hand fulls of colorful, lacy thongs back on their little plastic hangers, praying to God that no one saw the mess. At least it was an easier clean up than the neon pink nail polish Alex "picked" for me and neither one of us wore the evidence on our parade of shame throughout the rest of store like a giant frickin Scarlet A.
By the time we get home, THANK GOD, it's nap time. I finished a load of laundry and looked at my head count... sleeping, sleeping, addicted to video games X2... I'm taking a nap! Let my husband deal with the Hell Hounds for a while, he got to sleep late so I don't even care. I crawl up beside the baby and close my eyes. I'm so close, so close, until Thing2 walks in the room to see what I'm doing. and then Walter comes to investigate. Come on, this isn't a freakin zoo! I'm not on exhibit! I'm taking a nap! Then Walter starts whistling in the kitchen. and the doorbell rings. and Walter comes to tell me it's a delivery for me. I give the baby a diaper and shoo her to her Papaw and lay back down. until my husband carries a screaming baby to my bed to change her. and the Goofy one comes bouncing around. After a few words of my appreciation, I am left alone to sleep. and dream about the results of a botched late term abortion, people in crisis and the overwhelmed first responders who can't keep up with the demand... until my husband wakes me up to see exactly how long I would like to sleep.
Ah, sleep is overrated.