And my kids are super. They are smart, they are funny, they are lively, they are imaginative. These are all good things.
Now that we've moved on from the disclaimer, let's move on to the things that are putting me on the brink of becoming an alcoholic this weekend:
- I am currently on load 13 of laundry. I am really sick and fucking tired of doing laundry. Now, yesterday I was almost caught up. If I finish it, I'm taking a picture of the empty hampers. But right before bed Matt "cleaned out his Jeep" (more on that) and brings me seriously, two loads of super filthy sweatshirts, shirts, and things I think were pants at one point. TWO LOADS. Which is what I'm doing tomorrow. Why can't he bring them in every day??
- His Jeep is disgusting. I know it's his vehicle and it's not the nicest thing on the block, but seriously. I won't even ride in it because the smell is awful and your feet rests on garbage. All kinds of garbage. He's like a hoarder- but in his vehicle. Even the kids complain about Daddy picking them up because it is dirty. Now, when a 5 and 3 year old complain about a mess? You know you have a problem.
- After doing laundry, folding it, organizing it, I make Olivia put her own clothes away. She's 5 and more than capable. I go in there this morning, and I see she balled everything up and shoves it in. Doesn't even open the drawer all the way. *sigh*. So I get to refold everything. Again.
- Then I go to put Jackson's stuff away. Matt put some away last night, so that was nice. Jackson's top drawer is his sock/underwear drawer. And if anyone remembers the tour of my house, you'll remember that I like things neat and tidy. I have systems. Easy systems. His drawer is organized as such: unmatched socks to the left, underwear in the middle, paired socks on the right. Easy. Except nobody gets this but me. NOBODY. Not even Matt, my 30 year old husband who is familiar with my crazy and my systems.
- Matt has this annoying habit of breaking the bar of soap in half. I don't think there has ever been a time when he hasn't done this.
- When I go grocery shopping, I often go alone. I leave Matt here with the kids and I have never been gone for more than an hour. I'm usually in and out because I hate doing it, so on average, it's about 30 minutes I'm gone. Every single fucking time I come home, Matt locks the door. WHY? Why, jeebus, why? He knows I'm going to be right back loaded with bags. He knows that our door lock sucks shit so you need to hands to use it. He always falls asleep knowing I won't even be gone for an hour. Why. Then he never understands why I'm so pissed off when I'm trying to get the door unlocked, swearing on my front porch, loaded down with bags because I have small porch and if I set them down they all knock over into the grass or sidewalk.
- Why is when I say "stop running", my kids still run. Why is it that they think I should feel sympathetic when *surprise* they were running and either trip on something, run into each other, or slam into a wall? I'm sorry. I just can't. Especially after I've been saying the "stop running right now!!!" bit for awhile. I'm a bad mom.
- Why is Batman chewing qtips and leaving them on the floor for me to step on and feel like I've stabbed myself each and every morning?
- Why is it that when I ask Matt to get the stroller out of the garage for me, he gets pissy and "forgets"? It's not like I can go and get it because the garage is an episode straight out of Hoarders and even if I could get in there, there is no way I can move enough stuff to get the fucking stroller out. But instead, I will go wherever it is I'm going without the stroller, wish I had it the entire time, and then yell at Matt when I get home.
- And then?? When I tried to sit down last night to get ideas on what he wants to do when we are in Vegas because I'm trying to plan... I get the "whatever" routine. Really? Because when I say "whatever" to something he asks, he gets pissy.
- Pet Peeve 256476: when he stands behind me when I'm on the computer. I hate being watched, and he's just curious. I think this is his way to be interested in what I'm doing, but it's annoying as fuck. He just stands here and I have to usually say "please go away" and then he gets mad because I don't want to spend time with him. You're right. I don't really fucking feel like watching Antiques Roadshow. Or Pawn Stars. Or Holmes on Homes.