....ok...so she doesn't follow direction well, but at least she didn't tell him I was sleeping...or working my FarmVille farm on Facebook. But there is just one problem...she seems to have just one go to phrase for where I am or what I am doing....
Showing posts with label domestic goddessness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label domestic goddessness. Show all posts
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Penny's Thought of the Day....
Being back at home after just a few days back out in the work place has been both a blessing and blow to my confidence. I've relinguished my Crackberry to Penny's capable hands....ergh, I mean paws. Most of my calls are from Jon, since I haven't gotten any responses on the millions (okay 5) resumes I've turned loose in the employment world. I don't want Jon to think I'm slipping back into my depressive ways so I rely on Penny to give him other reasons as to why I won't answer my phone. I think she's doing a pretty good job so far.....
....hmmmm, guess i gotta work on some other answers for her to give him because I'm getting REALLY tired of him coming home with Imodium and Cranberry in an attempt to "help with my bathroom issues".
Monday, September 14, 2009
Epic failure of the clothing kind....
Well good Monday morning to you to! After yet another night of NOT sleeping due to ungodly snoring on my husbands part I was awoken to the lunatic gentle stirrings of another missed alarm clock wake-up.
I lifted my very sleep deprived head and then jammed it back down on to the pillow when it was deemed that I still had a few more minutes of well deserved sleep. Apparently, now late husband felt that I didn't need that sleep. My husband felt that my time would be better served by finding him a t-shirt and boxers. Ummmm....at what point did it become my responsibility to make sure that a perfectly able 33 yr old man had clothing?
We are digressing. This is definite back sliding on the roles of our marriage.
I am not wife circa 1950's who is responsible for laying out clean undergarments for his wearing each day. I don't run to him when I need clothes. Not. His. Responsibility. Am big girl. Able to find my own underwear.
I instruct him where he can find said items, albeit rather rudely and sleepily.
I lay back down just as soon as I can see his needs have been met. You're welcome. I want to scream that at him, but I am tired!
Not but a few minutes later I am roused....yet again. This time though, I'm not just aggitated and rude...I am pissed.
It seems our 9 soon to be 10 year old is in need of a uniform. I have gone from moderately pissed to extremely pissed in 1 second flat.
I have made it a routine of asking her every night before bed.....
Do I physically go and check every item?
No.
Do I peel through her backpack for the seven hundreth time?
No.
I am sorry....but at some point she has to be responsible for herself. I think 5th grade is a GREAT jumping off point for the diving board that is life's responsibility.
Apparently husband disagrees as he so angrily pointed out with his, "you deal with it...I can't handle it this morning".
Really?? Seriously??
You can rebuild a cars engine but you can't deal with finding khaki bottoms and school shirt. What the shit?
When did it become universal that wives...mothers...women, have to be the one to deal with the clothing crisises of the world??
I don't remember signing that form. I don't remember allocating that task to myself and myself alone. I don't remember saying..."I will take every midnight feeding and diaper change. I will miss work for every flu, fever, cold and pre-menstrual moment that our darling daughters display. I will make sure that clothing is readily available at their fingertips even when they hide it under beds, cram it in closets and never seem to grasp that the dirty stuff goes in the laundry hamper so I must go on an expedition daily to hunt down necessary items."
Nope...must have missed that meeting.
I must have...in all my mental undoing...been able to achieve some level of teaching responsibility because I have a teenager daughter that not only manages to get up on time with the aid of an alarm clock even when she had to stay up late to write a paper or talk to a friend over matters of great social importance but who also has clean clothing to get dressed in. Part of this is from the fact that while I was a single mom I relied heavily upon a schedule. She learned to respond to that level of organization and THANKFULLY it has carried over into this next facet of her growing up.
She remains fully responsible for her clothing. She dirties it...therefore...she washes it! I know! Brilliance...sheer and total brilliance.
I will give it to Hannah that she has been raised in a bit less of a structured enviroment but she has had something that Olivia didn't which was a constant two parent household from conception, to birth and everyday thereafter. You would think that would lend itself to a more concrete foundation to build upon.
Sadly this has not been the case. I will concede that my past 3 years of in and out deep depression have made structure a bit difficult. But where I slipped in the parental department I thought my significant other would step up and cover the bases I was missing. That hasn't happened. Jon has managed to keep the financial aspect of our life afloat but when it's come to maintaining a standard of parental structure...not so much.
This is not a husband bashing post. It is merely an observation that no matter how far I fall I am still expected to pull myself together to maintain a certain standard for my children. If the tides turned and it was Jon that began to crack and fall apart I would hope that I would find the strength to not only hold it together for myself but maintain a level of stucture for the kids.
I wish that I could let go of the anger that this moment of Monday madness has brought upon me, but I can't. It's just another reminder of how no matter what happens it always falls to the mother to keep it together. I will never truly be able to step out of my role and find a way to pull myself together. At least not while there are socks, underwear and pants to be located.
Just another notch on the belt of failure I've created in this downward dip known as depression. Pass the prozac please!
~JP
I lifted my very sleep deprived head and then jammed it back down on to the pillow when it was deemed that I still had a few more minutes of well deserved sleep. Apparently, now late husband felt that I didn't need that sleep. My husband felt that my time would be better served by finding him a t-shirt and boxers. Ummmm....at what point did it become my responsibility to make sure that a perfectly able 33 yr old man had clothing?
We are digressing. This is definite back sliding on the roles of our marriage.
I am not wife circa 1950's who is responsible for laying out clean undergarments for his wearing each day. I don't run to him when I need clothes. Not. His. Responsibility. Am big girl. Able to find my own underwear.
I instruct him where he can find said items, albeit rather rudely and sleepily.
I lay back down just as soon as I can see his needs have been met. You're welcome. I want to scream that at him, but I am tired!
Not but a few minutes later I am roused....yet again. This time though, I'm not just aggitated and rude...I am pissed.
It seems our 9 soon to be 10 year old is in need of a uniform. I have gone from moderately pissed to extremely pissed in 1 second flat.
I have made it a routine of asking her every night before bed.....
- Do you have a clean uniform for school?
- Do you have anything that we need to look over or sign that has to be returned tomorrow?
Do I physically go and check every item?
No.
Do I peel through her backpack for the seven hundreth time?
No.
I am sorry....but at some point she has to be responsible for herself. I think 5th grade is a GREAT jumping off point for the diving board that is life's responsibility.
Apparently husband disagrees as he so angrily pointed out with his, "you deal with it...I can't handle it this morning".
Really?? Seriously??
You can rebuild a cars engine but you can't deal with finding khaki bottoms and school shirt. What the shit?
When did it become universal that wives...mothers...women, have to be the one to deal with the clothing crisises of the world??
I don't remember signing that form. I don't remember allocating that task to myself and myself alone. I don't remember saying..."I will take every midnight feeding and diaper change. I will miss work for every flu, fever, cold and pre-menstrual moment that our darling daughters display. I will make sure that clothing is readily available at their fingertips even when they hide it under beds, cram it in closets and never seem to grasp that the dirty stuff goes in the laundry hamper so I must go on an expedition daily to hunt down necessary items."
Nope...must have missed that meeting.
I must have...in all my mental undoing...been able to achieve some level of teaching responsibility because I have a teenager daughter that not only manages to get up on time with the aid of an alarm clock even when she had to stay up late to write a paper or talk to a friend over matters of great social importance but who also has clean clothing to get dressed in. Part of this is from the fact that while I was a single mom I relied heavily upon a schedule. She learned to respond to that level of organization and THANKFULLY it has carried over into this next facet of her growing up.
She remains fully responsible for her clothing. She dirties it...therefore...she washes it! I know! Brilliance...sheer and total brilliance.
I will give it to Hannah that she has been raised in a bit less of a structured enviroment but she has had something that Olivia didn't which was a constant two parent household from conception, to birth and everyday thereafter. You would think that would lend itself to a more concrete foundation to build upon.
Sadly this has not been the case. I will concede that my past 3 years of in and out deep depression have made structure a bit difficult. But where I slipped in the parental department I thought my significant other would step up and cover the bases I was missing. That hasn't happened. Jon has managed to keep the financial aspect of our life afloat but when it's come to maintaining a standard of parental structure...not so much.
This is not a husband bashing post. It is merely an observation that no matter how far I fall I am still expected to pull myself together to maintain a certain standard for my children. If the tides turned and it was Jon that began to crack and fall apart I would hope that I would find the strength to not only hold it together for myself but maintain a level of stucture for the kids.
I wish that I could let go of the anger that this moment of Monday madness has brought upon me, but I can't. It's just another reminder of how no matter what happens it always falls to the mother to keep it together. I will never truly be able to step out of my role and find a way to pull myself together. At least not while there are socks, underwear and pants to be located.
Just another notch on the belt of failure I've created in this downward dip known as depression. Pass the prozac please!
~JP
Friday, September 11, 2009
Stabby boob pain...(part deux) & Penny's Thought of the Day...
It's baaaaaacccck!
I was mid laundry folding (so I'm totally blaming domestic servitude for this mishap) when I literally was taken breathless by immense pain. I thought maybe I had moved in some bizarre way but as time went on...folding shirt after boxers after bra after socks after underwear after pants after bathing suit and placing in owner specific piles...it became increasingly worse. It finally got to the point where I couldn't move without feeling like not only my left boob but the whole upper left side of my chest was engulfed in this hot seering pain.
It feels more like the return of the stabby boob pain than it does the costochondritis that cost me my last job and possibly my grasp on mental stability. I am literally willing myself to believe that it cannot possibly be a reinfection of that.
I think my boobs are striking back against the 27 months of life sustaining breast feeding I did when the girls were babies. I wonder if I take all the money saved from buying formula during that time and put it towards reconstructive surgery for these puppies if that would make them stop acting like under arm rest and go back to being the fun bags that they once used to be.
The pain is too severe to really contemplate cutting on them at this moment but the idea of anesthesia is appealing to me at this very painful moment.
It came on so sudden but is getting progressively worse as the minutes turn to hours.
I thought Penny would remain supportive of how crappy I began to feel as the day came to a close yesterday but as I sit here writing this and trying to switch from cold to heat on the afflicted area I can see she is more and more turned off by my constant whimpering.
What happened to solidarity between women?? Oh, wait..I think she's trying to tell me something....
Ahhhh...crap. She has a point. If Jon's mom comes over and there's "Mount Laundry" prominently displayed on our sofa then I'm sure it will just scream, "my daughter-in-law is a FAILURE". It's one thing to drain your family financially by eliminating one entire income and being sick all the time...then there is the whole deficiency in the motherhood department...but putting everyone's knickers on display because your having stabby boob pain is pretty much the final straw in the eyes of the extended family.
Or at least I think it's written somewhere like that. Maybe in the Bible after "don't covet thy neighbor" and "never allow someone to sleep past 8a on a Sunday so that they can worship" but before the chapter about "spare the rod, spoil the child". It's been awhile since I read the Bible but I am pretty sure I saw it in there once.
It's now been 6 full hours of excruciating, non stop pain. I am down to typing with just my right hand and Penny has gone from sitting faithfully by my side to just getting comfy and leaving me to cry while Jon snores and HGTV plays in the background. It's the symphany of my life.
I've now consumed enough Sleepy Time tea and a fair amount of ibuprofen in order to allow me to try and get a bit of rest. Sun up will bring more laundry and hopefully less pain.
~JP
I was mid laundry folding (so I'm totally blaming domestic servitude for this mishap) when I literally was taken breathless by immense pain. I thought maybe I had moved in some bizarre way but as time went on...folding shirt after boxers after bra after socks after underwear after pants after bathing suit and placing in owner specific piles...it became increasingly worse. It finally got to the point where I couldn't move without feeling like not only my left boob but the whole upper left side of my chest was engulfed in this hot seering pain.
It feels more like the return of the stabby boob pain than it does the costochondritis that cost me my last job and possibly my grasp on mental stability. I am literally willing myself to believe that it cannot possibly be a reinfection of that.
I think my boobs are striking back against the 27 months of life sustaining breast feeding I did when the girls were babies. I wonder if I take all the money saved from buying formula during that time and put it towards reconstructive surgery for these puppies if that would make them stop acting like under arm rest and go back to being the fun bags that they once used to be.
The pain is too severe to really contemplate cutting on them at this moment but the idea of anesthesia is appealing to me at this very painful moment.
It came on so sudden but is getting progressively worse as the minutes turn to hours.
I thought Penny would remain supportive of how crappy I began to feel as the day came to a close yesterday but as I sit here writing this and trying to switch from cold to heat on the afflicted area I can see she is more and more turned off by my constant whimpering.
Or at least I think it's written somewhere like that. Maybe in the Bible after "don't covet thy neighbor" and "never allow someone to sleep past 8a on a Sunday so that they can worship" but before the chapter about "spare the rod, spoil the child". It's been awhile since I read the Bible but I am pretty sure I saw it in there once.
It's now been 6 full hours of excruciating, non stop pain. I am down to typing with just my right hand and Penny has gone from sitting faithfully by my side to just getting comfy and leaving me to cry while Jon snores and HGTV plays in the background. It's the symphany of my life.
~JP
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Because humiliation is inevitable...I keep liquor on hand at all times.
So I am supposed to be folding laundry. Like enough laundry for at least 7 households with 4 people in each home. Where the fuck did we get all these clothes? Jesus did we just buy new stuff cause I didn't wash the dirty stuff? I totally think that is what happened. I mean I remember rushing out and buying socks...oh yeah and underwear...at like midnight because I hadn't done laundry and I didn't feel like sorting, then washing, then re-sorting, then folding, then placing lovingly into piles that my kids and husband would never put away and then dog or cat (back when we had a cat) would lay on said piles or worse pee or puke on them and then the whole vicious cycle would repeat itself and we'd still have no clean socks or underwear.
I do definitely remember buying a few choice items in a manic fit at least a couple hundred times over the past few years...but seriously...this is ALOT of clothes. It covers my couch.
It was covering my dinner table and part of my kitchen counter but then I decided to be all "domestic goddess" and cook dinner. But I couldn't cook dinner without going to the grocery first. I did that after I decided that moving laundry from kitchen to living room was HUGE improvement. But then I was like "oh shit I totally won't have all this done before Jon gets home, must create a diversion...oooh, I know...I'll cook". I figured it was cook or offer up more sexual favors. I was still kind of tired from the last go around and plus figured I should do something where the kids could benefit too. I'm so giving that way.
So I went to the grocery and spent WAY too much money for our one income household. It was all necessary items like fruit, veggies, chicken, pasta, stuff to make lunches, breakfast items, laundry detergent (for when I finally do fold laundry and it inevitably gets dirty again) and wine....yeah, can't forget the wine. Then I remembered that Jon was going to play poker last night and I scrapped huge dinner that I planned on cooking as a diversion to the huge pile of laundry now taking up residence on out couch and coffee table.
I decided on just pasta with veggies and chicken. I'd do some garlic bread too. It would just be me and the girls, so it would be fine. Liv had been begging for this pasta for a month now so I knew that she would be happy. Han's only concern was that there were pea's in it. I told her to pick them out and she seemed content.
We got home from the grocery and I made Han sit at the newly cleared dinner table to start her homework. She was more than slightly pissed that her original work space of the coffee table, planted firmly in front of flat panel t.v. was not up for use. I reminded her that homework time was for homework and NOT getting caught up on all that has occured on Disney Channel for the last 8 hours that she hasn't been watching it. She rolled he eyes in that over exagerated way of tweens these days and I'm pretty sure that she silently flipped me the bird from behind her backpack.
I mean I can't prove that she did that. But then again I can't disprove that she didn't do it either. I could have just asked her and been all "what are you doing with your hands behind your backpack"? And then she would have been "nothing...gawd...I didn't do anything". And I would be all "did you just shoot me the bird?" And she would totally shoot back "no-ah...gawd...why are you so paranoid? Why do you think everyone is out to get you? Why are you busy wasting time trying to figure out what I was doing behind my backpack when you could have folded some damn laundry?"
It really was best that I just let it go.
I set to putting away the groceries and Han set to talking up a storm. I know where she gets it from and God do I wish that I could PLEASE stop being punished for all the times I literally set my mothers ears to bleeding from all the chattering I did. I swear she has a quota of words that she is determined to meet on any given day and she won't stop until she hits it. I'm not sure what that number is but when I find the fucking dial I am turning it down to a 3 digit number.
In between cleaning and putting away groceries I kept having to say "Hannah homework"....literally every 15 minutes was marked by that phrase. Then came the homework related questions.
Hannah: Mom, are you good at social studies?
Me: Depends. What do you need to know?
Hannah: It's questions about the government and the Constitution.
Me: Hmm....you can try me. If I don't know we can just wait for your dad to get home.
Hannah: Well are you good at math?
Me: Depends. What do you need to know?
Hannah: Are you good at anything?
Me: Well, I'm making you dinner. So yeah...I am good at that.
Hannah: This is the first time you've made dinner in awhile.
Me: Hannah...do your homework.
When Jon got home I put him on homework duty. They knocked it out before he left for cards. I knocked out a bottle of wine shortly thereafter.
I later got a text from a girlfriend of mine regarding dance team tryouts that both her daughter and Hannah will be attending this afternoon. It had to do with the FAME forms that Hannah was so desperate to have me fill out but then left on the couch. In the packet they requested a copy of the first 9 weeks grades. That's all fine and great....only 1 teeny tiny problem...the kids have only been in school for 4 maybe 5 weeks. Jacklegs. How can we give you something we don't have??
She was just as confused as I was about it. I told her that given the fact that they are the school and they should know that we can't possibly have this that I am sending the packet without it. I swear if there is a problem because that is missing I am totally pulling my kid out of public school and putting her in private. If I have to pay $10,000 a year so that the school can use common sense then so be it. I mean...really book smarts you can learn but common sense...that shit is priceless!
By the end of the night I was drowning my sorrows of possibly being stupider than my 5th grader yet smarter than the public school she attended. It was a bittersweet revelation. All I could do was sit back and watch the Jon Gosselin interview on Pritime Family Secrets. It made me laugh that it was on a show with the words "family" and "secrets" in the same sentence since outside of knowing what color underwear him or Kate are wearing that day we, as a viewing public, are pretty keen on what these two train wrecks are up to at any given moment.
I just can't feel sorry for the guy. I can't feel sorry for Kate either. I did however realize that in one of the clips that they played of him and her in a toy store from a few years back that I TOTALLY talk to my own Jon that way. At times. I vowed to stop that behavior immediately and then toasted my new found change with a shot of Firefly sweet tea vodka.
Apparently...though....I toasted one too many times cause when my Jon came home a few hours later and hadn't brought the promised McFlurry from a text he'd sent me, I went off. Kate Gosselin style. It was "Jon & Jess plus 2" in my bedroom. Thankfully I fell asleep a few minutes into the tirade. Not so good for the husbands ego, but at least we didn't have camera's, witnesses or our children involved.
I did have to swallow my pride, choke down the dry mouth sensation that follows any night of ill fated shots and apologize. He forgave me and thank god for that....I mean, I'm pretty sure Hannah is gonna have way more homework tonight and I just can't bare to be humiliated two nights in a row. I don't know if I have enough liquor for that.
~JP
I do definitely remember buying a few choice items in a manic fit at least a couple hundred times over the past few years...but seriously...this is ALOT of clothes. It covers my couch.
It was covering my dinner table and part of my kitchen counter but then I decided to be all "domestic goddess" and cook dinner. But I couldn't cook dinner without going to the grocery first. I did that after I decided that moving laundry from kitchen to living room was HUGE improvement. But then I was like "oh shit I totally won't have all this done before Jon gets home, must create a diversion...oooh, I know...I'll cook". I figured it was cook or offer up more sexual favors. I was still kind of tired from the last go around and plus figured I should do something where the kids could benefit too. I'm so giving that way.
So I went to the grocery and spent WAY too much money for our one income household. It was all necessary items like fruit, veggies, chicken, pasta, stuff to make lunches, breakfast items, laundry detergent (for when I finally do fold laundry and it inevitably gets dirty again) and wine....yeah, can't forget the wine. Then I remembered that Jon was going to play poker last night and I scrapped huge dinner that I planned on cooking as a diversion to the huge pile of laundry now taking up residence on out couch and coffee table.
I decided on just pasta with veggies and chicken. I'd do some garlic bread too. It would just be me and the girls, so it would be fine. Liv had been begging for this pasta for a month now so I knew that she would be happy. Han's only concern was that there were pea's in it. I told her to pick them out and she seemed content.
We got home from the grocery and I made Han sit at the newly cleared dinner table to start her homework. She was more than slightly pissed that her original work space of the coffee table, planted firmly in front of flat panel t.v. was not up for use. I reminded her that homework time was for homework and NOT getting caught up on all that has occured on Disney Channel for the last 8 hours that she hasn't been watching it. She rolled he eyes in that over exagerated way of tweens these days and I'm pretty sure that she silently flipped me the bird from behind her backpack.
I mean I can't prove that she did that. But then again I can't disprove that she didn't do it either. I could have just asked her and been all "what are you doing with your hands behind your backpack"? And then she would have been "nothing...gawd...I didn't do anything". And I would be all "did you just shoot me the bird?" And she would totally shoot back "no-ah...gawd...why are you so paranoid? Why do you think everyone is out to get you? Why are you busy wasting time trying to figure out what I was doing behind my backpack when you could have folded some damn laundry?"
It really was best that I just let it go.
I set to putting away the groceries and Han set to talking up a storm. I know where she gets it from and God do I wish that I could PLEASE stop being punished for all the times I literally set my mothers ears to bleeding from all the chattering I did. I swear she has a quota of words that she is determined to meet on any given day and she won't stop until she hits it. I'm not sure what that number is but when I find the fucking dial I am turning it down to a 3 digit number.
In between cleaning and putting away groceries I kept having to say "Hannah homework"....literally every 15 minutes was marked by that phrase. Then came the homework related questions.
Hannah: Mom, are you good at social studies?
Me: Depends. What do you need to know?
Hannah: It's questions about the government and the Constitution.
Me: Hmm....you can try me. If I don't know we can just wait for your dad to get home.
Hannah: Well are you good at math?
Me: Depends. What do you need to know?
Hannah: Are you good at anything?
Me: Well, I'm making you dinner. So yeah...I am good at that.
Hannah: This is the first time you've made dinner in awhile.
Me: Hannah...do your homework.
When Jon got home I put him on homework duty. They knocked it out before he left for cards. I knocked out a bottle of wine shortly thereafter.
I later got a text from a girlfriend of mine regarding dance team tryouts that both her daughter and Hannah will be attending this afternoon. It had to do with the FAME forms that Hannah was so desperate to have me fill out but then left on the couch. In the packet they requested a copy of the first 9 weeks grades. That's all fine and great....only 1 teeny tiny problem...the kids have only been in school for 4 maybe 5 weeks. Jacklegs. How can we give you something we don't have??
She was just as confused as I was about it. I told her that given the fact that they are the school and they should know that we can't possibly have this that I am sending the packet without it. I swear if there is a problem because that is missing I am totally pulling my kid out of public school and putting her in private. If I have to pay $10,000 a year so that the school can use common sense then so be it. I mean...really book smarts you can learn but common sense...that shit is priceless!
By the end of the night I was drowning my sorrows of possibly being stupider than my 5th grader yet smarter than the public school she attended. It was a bittersweet revelation. All I could do was sit back and watch the Jon Gosselin interview on Pritime Family Secrets. It made me laugh that it was on a show with the words "family" and "secrets" in the same sentence since outside of knowing what color underwear him or Kate are wearing that day we, as a viewing public, are pretty keen on what these two train wrecks are up to at any given moment.
I just can't feel sorry for the guy. I can't feel sorry for Kate either. I did however realize that in one of the clips that they played of him and her in a toy store from a few years back that I TOTALLY talk to my own Jon that way. At times. I vowed to stop that behavior immediately and then toasted my new found change with a shot of Firefly sweet tea vodka.
Apparently...though....I toasted one too many times cause when my Jon came home a few hours later and hadn't brought the promised McFlurry from a text he'd sent me, I went off. Kate Gosselin style. It was "Jon & Jess plus 2" in my bedroom. Thankfully I fell asleep a few minutes into the tirade. Not so good for the husbands ego, but at least we didn't have camera's, witnesses or our children involved.
I did have to swallow my pride, choke down the dry mouth sensation that follows any night of ill fated shots and apologize. He forgave me and thank god for that....I mean, I'm pretty sure Hannah is gonna have way more homework tonight and I just can't bare to be humiliated two nights in a row. I don't know if I have enough liquor for that.
~JP
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