I thought I would just drop the pregnancy in there. It was really the setup for the video I was going to post (to explain my arms that look remarkably like my THIGHS used to) but then I have had so many technical difficulties with computers in this house that I had a video that kept stopping. That is annoying. And it had the eff word too many times (looking at you, Susie Sunshine and you, Julie). So no video.
But I had promised a video so then I couldn’t post anything else. The problem is, when the emotional concerns are running high in your family and you don’t post on the internet, you start getting the “you aren’t going to kill yourself, are you?” emails. No, Internet. I am not going to kill myself. Not even remotely. Sure I have an alien lifeform eating my internal organs and the smell of AIR still manages to make me ill, but besides that, I’m just busy. I picked up 22 new stores at the show in Vegas and now I have to actually work for a living. Not that I don’t have time for you. I just couldn’t get beyond not posting the video.
On a lighter note, my mother has gone on the record asking me to stop referring to The Baby as The Devil. She says that is disrespectful to The Baby. Apparently when she was here he didn’t take every single damn pot/pan/bowl/dish out of every single cabinet and cart them through the house in a wheelbarrow. He didn’t take all the food out of the freezer and hide it. Location TBD. He didn’t take a costco-sized bag of Cheerios (which he recovered from the very top of the fridge) and dump them on the kitchen floor. He didn’t stab her in the leg with a butcher knife. Apparently she didn’t have to remove any and all objects that may be used as a climbing apparatus from the main floor of the house to keep him from scaling the counter and eating all the coffee beans from the grinder. She didn’t have to take down the curtains to keep him from swinging on them in the living room (bending the rods). He didn’t turn all the lights on and leave the doors open in HER car so that it wouldn’t start when it was her turn to pick up all the kids at school. This didn’t happen to her in the last 36 hours.
He didn’t take 35 of HER keyboard keys off HER brand-spanking-new laptop when she made lunch. For four minutes. I want you to know, Internet, that The Baby is still alive. If ever my heart has known a dark moment, I’m going to have to say it was today. And I don’t care how damn cute that kid is, he should be lucky that we live in the country. Had the opportunity presented itself to drop him off on a crowded sidewalk with a “Free” sign written in Sharpie on his chest, I’m just saying I would have had a momentary dilemma. Instead I screamed and cried until I thought my head would explode and I put him to bed. His brother kept saying over and over again, “Please call Dad. Dad can fix it, Mom. I know he can. Maybe the P.S. (UPS) guy can bring you another computer. He can, Mom. Or Dad can fix it.”
2 1/2 hours later and I had reattached 28 of the keys. Who needs the shift key anyway? And the space bar? SOOO overrated. I’m not saying that alcohol is the answer to all of life’s problems, Internet, but I am saying that today was definitely a Mommy Needs a Cocktail day. Too bad I’m on the pregnancy wagon.
This parenting thing is so awesome I’m thinking we should totally have another one.