Getting Back on the Horse...

The road trip went well, despite pretty rotten weather. It rained almost the entire time we were gone, but the sun came out blazing bright and beautiful just after we started down the highway on the return trip. Mikro was exceptionally good. I brought a portable bed rail, and he slept in my bed. Never used the portable playpen. We introduced him to the pool, which was a loud screaming flop. He absolutely hates being in the water. (I probably should have foreseen that, considering he hates baths...) I bought him some really cool birthday presents at the Wild Bird country store in Great Barrington. We had brunch at the red Lion Inn in Stockbridge one morning, and cooked the rest of the time. R is really great with Mikro. She gives him airplane rides, and raspberries on the tummy and rocks him to sleep when he's cranky. It was fun.

Got home and fought with my husband, who doesn't like me posting anything even remotely critical of him here (i.e., the laundry post), so I have to reevaluate whether I'll bitch and moan about him on the blog...

The big news is, I just bought a car (a used but spiffy electric blue PT Crui5er) but am terrified to drive it. (There's an explanation of my driving problem in my 100 Things...) I am probably going to take lessons, since it has been 10 years since I've driven. I really don't want to drive at all. But with Mikro, I need to. So I'm trying to be a grownup and work through my anxiety and do what I need to.

Of course, predictably, my parents are totally unsupportive. My father thinks I'm an idiot for spending the money. My mother ever so helpfully inquires: So what are you going to do when you have a panic attack at the wheel? and Don't you think you're putting Mikro at risk?

Thanks for the coup de grace to any vestiges of calm or confidence, folks...

Road Trip

I'm going to be away for the next couple days. My good friend R and I are going to drive up to her condo in the Berkshires and soak in the hot tub. We're taking Mikro along, and may even give him his first ever swimming lesson in the indoor pool. I really wish Kev was coming along to help out in the pool, but he's in a crabby mood over the turn of his personal decade yesterday... so he's staying home alone.

At the moment, I'm doing my sixth load of laundry, and there are probably at least five more to go. I have a list of stuff to pack, and it's time to get cracking on finding things. Portable play pen, baby gate, stroller, diapers, swim diapers, spoon, clothing, toys, books, favorite blankie, wet wipes... Mikro needs his own personal Quartermaster Corps... And then there's my stuff. Good thing R drives a gigantic SUV. We may just be able to cram two days worth of Mikro's baggage train into it.

Passive Aggressive About Laundry?

My husband hasn't cleaned the cat litter in awhile. Because I have really bad allergies and a touch of asthma, I don't go downstairs to the basement when there is alot of litter dust and dirty litter. So when he doesn't take care of the cat's business, it devolves to him to take care of the laundry.

In fact, he orders me to stay out of the basement until he gets around to cleaning the litter...

Which means that I expect that the laundry will get done. All the laundry. His, mine and the Boy's. However, what inevitably happens is, his laundry gets done, and Mikro and I see maybe 2 clean panties and some socks... Worse yet, he has dumped the laundry on the dusty basement floor and walked on it.

So today I go down there and nearly have a stroke over the disaster that I find.

He claims he doesn't intentionally only do his own clothing and treat my stuff and the baby's stuff worse than garbage; it's purely accidental. But I am beginning to realize the universe just does not host coincidences this freaking big. And then there's the fact that he will wash dishes, but leave my tea cups and coffee mugs, because he doesn't drink coffee or tea, and they must have been mine, so I guess that means he doesn't have to clean them...

Where he gets these ideas I do not know. It never gets resolved either, because Kev doesn't even argue about it, he just assumes that while he is free to pick which messes he will deal with, everything else falls to me by default.

If I had ten minutes free to get anything done without a toddler trying to climb my leg, it wouldn't be so bad. But it is reaching ridiculous proportions.

I know he hates doing laundry. I don't like it, but I am willing to do it, ALL OF IT, so long as I don't risk a broken leg or bronchitis from the condition he leaves the basement in.

And finding some of my favorite shirts chewed to ribbons by the dog did nothing to improve matters.

ARGH!

Happy B-day

Happy Birthday to Kevin, the boy I fell in love with, the man I married, and my son's absolutely awesome daddy!
You are the love of my life, honey!

Crying Over Spilt Milk

We were getting ready to go up to the mall yesterday to buy a camcorder. We have no movies of the Boy's first 11 months of life, but I wanted to be sure we'd have his Birthday preserved for posterity. We go so seldom that when we do go, we try to run every conceivable errand. So one of the many things on our list was to go to home depot and pick up wood to put a rail on the plant shelf, so Mikro doesn't dump 20 pounds of potting soil on my couch... or his head...

So, in aid of that little task, Kevin asked me to measure the shelf...

So genius woman sticks the tape measure up under what she thinks is an empty cup, takes the measurement, and then pulls out the tape. Let's just say the cup wasn't empty. I managed to dump 16 ounces of milk into the fully packed diaper bag, and all over the couch...

My husband watches me getting more and more upset over the soaked diapers, clothing, wallet and checkbook and says:

No use crying over spilt milk!

Of course, when we finally cleaned up and got to the mall, we forgot all about the stupid piece of wood that caused the deluge.