Good Wife

My husband e-mailed this to me.

No words. No subject line. Just the picture. With the little circled bit at the bottom.

 

My simple reply was:

"I know my place.  And if you expect any of the above to happen, it's a place you won't be visiting any time soon." 

I totally thought today was Thursday.

It's been pretty busy at work.

Like so busy I can't even ENJOY my favorite online reading - it's all fly by and I'm sure I'm missing some good stuff, especially with my closest grils.

And today, I'm wearing a suit. I Look mighty professional. Thing is? Our office is business casual (usually pants & a twin set fit the bill)...so I'm hoping my boss questions my schedule today...like maybe he thinks I have an interview or something.  Gotta keep him on his toes!

Anyway - some snippets of the week.

When we work late, we get dinner delivered. There are like 89 restaurants within 10 miles so there's lots of places to choose from. Cheesecake Factory, PF Changs, Chipotle, Joe's...you get it. Well someone chose this greek place last night. I'm all for trying new stuff.  But I found something I thought I could be "good" with...broiled scallops. With rice pilaf and veggies.

This is what I got:

WHAT. The. FUCK?  Is that gravy? on the rice? I scraped that right off and tried to move on. But then I realized the scallops were probably fried and not broiled. At least I know they were coated in something salty and fatty...damn, all for me being "good." 

I'm still puzzled by the gravy...any Greeks care to enlighten me? Is this the way you eat rice?

One night last week I decided to go against all child labor laws and brought my kid to work w/ me.  He was here til almost 9 and behaved quite well, if I do say so myself. Not to mention, he was a nice distraction for all of us grumpy, bitchy accountants.

yes, that is - in fact - the yoga mat that I use to take my Costanza naps...

Last piece o' fun...that same kid - the 4.5 yr old...banged up his noggin a few nights ago. I only heard crashing benches and falling heads and screams of terror - but when I saw the blood, I expected his face to be ripped in half. Alas, just a gash on his chin...small, but deep. I'm guessing it could have used a stitch or two, but we figured it out. Slapped on a bandaid, filled him w/ motrin and sent him to bed. 

OK. looking at that, you'd never know that it looked like a massacre in my bathroom the night before I took this. (and really, I just wanted to share his cheeks and eyelashes...lil cherub).

That's all I got - good times up in here. Been missing me, haven't ya? I know you have...

Beautifully Random

So ms. hotness at Diary of a Mad Woman named me as a Beautiful Blogger.

Because,
DUH!

Anyway - I suck at those rules for blog awards and stuff (right, Jen? Sass?) so just thought I'd share.

It's not every day someone is called beautiful, even though most of you have never seen me.

Random shit today:  I'm working.  Taking a break right now (obvs!) but yesterday? My boss? Who is a 55+ year old man? Was eating chili for lunch and I popped in for a question and he said "just a sec, this chili is so hot - my bald spot is sweating."

Um.

OooohKaaaaay?

Really? And then he patted it w/ a napkin and expected me to just carry on with my financial analysis question.

It haunted me all afternoon...that sweaty bald spot...

Also random. My husband has strep throat. I've had strep. And the flu. It blows. Like blows big dangly donkey balls.  But? Why are men such fucking pussies when they're sick?  Not to mention he's w/ the kids all day because I'm at the office. I swear to god if they get sick because he's too lazy to wash his hands I'll throat punch him.

Twice.

Last random thing. I'm wearing comfy clothes today. It's saturday. No dress code, other than, you know, have clothes on. So I'm wearing my pink skully shirt. 

Bad Ass Accountant.  Look out.

You know that feeling?

So if you have kids,

And you ever, like, hold those kids,

You know that feeling,

when they're sleepy and snuggled into you...
their head on your left shoulder...
warm sweet breath on your neck...
little baby fingers and hands
limp around your arms...
their little heart
beating against your heart,
like you share a pulse?

Yah, that feeling...

It's pretty amazing.

I'm just trying to help.

Well, I've been counseled again. Did I share that I see a counselor? I do. I go once in a while, because, you know - I feel like I should talk to Someone other than the world wide web...and this someone can also write prescriptions and as far as I know, none of you can come through for me on that issue.

 

And I used to see this guy counselor. But I didn't like him, we didn't mesh. And the first time we talked, he made me cry. And? He reminded me of Mr. Rogers, but chubbier and with a beard.

 

So now I see a girl, who I feel much more comfortable with. Well, more comfortable than with a chubby bearded Mr. Rogers.

 

Also? Why don't I just call it therapy? Like "I'm in therapy" instead of "I've been counseled." I guess it's a less scary word to me. Therapist. Counselor. The latter makes me think of the harmless school guidance counselor so, yah, I'm sticking with the fluffy word that makes me feel cozy.

 

You know you wanna know what we’ve covered, don’t you…

 

Some fun things that arise via my verbal diarrhea:

 

• My brother who passed away.
• My father who passed away.
• My mom, who's my hero, but whom I feel the need to take care of even though she's completely capable of caring for herself.
• My need to release the inner control freak.
• My love hate/relationship with wine.
• My need to feel perfect in all things (wife, mother, sister, daughter, worker, friend) - and then feeling like I'm failing at at least half of them on a daily basis.
• My lack of job satisfaction
• My love of target (no lie).

 

Wanna know why I shared?

 

It’s to help you! So you’d feel much better about yourself, of course! See – all these issues I have? Bet you don’t have nearly as many & therefore – less f’d up than me! Don’t you feel better?

 

It’s like watching Hoarders – those hot messes make me feel way better about my slightly messy living room.

 

You’re Welcome.

apparently, red roses are evil

Hey Hoo - yah, so I got flowers! Delivered. To ME!

So I brought them home and my kids were all about the questions.

Where did you get those?

Who brought them to you?

Why did you let them get cold?

Who are those from?

What's that yellow one about?

Who is Valentime?

WHATEVER, KID - just eat your pizza and get your paws off the petals.

Some photographic evidence...

My 2 year old wanted to take a picture of me. Here's his attempt:

Yep. That's my neck. Hey - he tried.

Ok - so here's these fancy roses all opened up:

I reallllllly am glad the Mr. didn't go for red. Seriously. The colors are WAY more "me" than just red. He done good.

But apparently my son thinks there's a red one in the bunch.  Right...There....

And? He wouldn't smell it. Apparently there was some crazy episode of Mickey Mouse Club House where this cow had a garden and Minnie Mouse smelled a red rose and slept for 100 years.

Seriously?

Seriously.

He was smellin all the other flowers. And touching all the other flowers. And he about busted out tears when I went to smell that "red" one. He yelled at me to throw it away! Really. He's all  "Maybe you should put those 2 in the trash, momma! Now!"

But - not once did he say why.

I know why, and he knows why, but we shall never speak of it again.

Damn Minnie Mouse...

All You Need is Love

Well it's that time of year. Valentine's Day.  On Thursday night we put stickers and glue and chicken nugget crumbs (sorry about that, friends) on 19 valentine's for my 4 yr old's class.  Big Kiss wanted to give cereal bars to his friends: Chocolate chip to the boys and Pink [nutrigrain] to the girls.  We taped them on top of the flimsy Scooby Doo fold up cards and off we went. 

New rule? Apparently you don't write "who" on the card anymore? Just sign the "from." I'm cornfused by this - but I followed the rules.  I'm sure the kids had a grand time and the sugar high will last for days.

As for the grown ups, I'm personally not a fan of grand gestures from a partner - just because it's Valentine's Day.

Alas, things I've shared with my husband over the years:

Don't waste your money on roses, that have tripled in price just for the occasion...a $7.99 clump of daisies from the grocery store says so much more to me...especially if it's on a random Tuesday afternoon.

Don't put off the gift buying til the last minute when you're standing in CVS with the other slackers and have to fight over the one remaining decent card...Leave me a love note before work some morning.

Don't give me "love coupons." Ever.

Do? Love me - all of me - even when I nag or scowl or laugh so hard I'm snorting.  Every day. Or, at least every other day ;)

For you? Any haters of this "Holiday?"  If you're married, single, have kids or don't. Find someone you love this Valentine's day. When I was in my early 20's and unattached, I'd call my best friend on VD and we'd share giggles and drinks and just make it a day to love our selves.

And since my family is heading out of town this weekend, that's exactly what I'm doing this year! See you soon, A!

*I had to edit because my husband broke the rules and actually sent me flowers. At work. Roses, even. And while I said "don't bother?" He went all out and I'm pretty impressed. 

Stubborn, who me?

We're having a battle of wills in my home. And I'm a stubborn bitch who is sometimes hard to live with. Sometimes. Heh.

So me and the Mr. have our household duties. He takes out the trash (most weeks), mows the lawn and cleans the pool. I do all of the GodForsaken laundry, mop the floors, do the dishes (90% of the time) and clean the bathrooms.

Let me just share - when he does any of my duties? It totally turns me on. That said, he has NOT turned me on lately. Well, with his cleaning. And I'm getting busy and having a life and all and instead of watching basketball 24/7, he could pitch in a little bit.

Just with the bathrooms. I'll still do the laundry, because, um, I like the clothes clean. And folded.

This is where the battle ensues. I've not 'nagged' him to do it. I'm just leaving it "unclean." And he clearly doesn't give a shit. Well, actually? I think he's giving a lot of shit but I digress...

This - is the toilet in the bathroom. The main 'family' bathroom. 

Note seat and lid are up. And the stool in front (for the lil ones to use the pot). That said - if the lid is up, and the stool is still in the front - Mr. Kiss must have just stood there and peed OVER the stool.  Because it's just so hard to move it and so he'll risk getting pee dripplets on the lil' white bench. 

Also note? The cleaning solution right next to the toilet. Seriously.

Can't really see the filth? Here - look again - and mind you - I just flushed this for the picture. So yah, that's a 'fresh bowl' full of scum and ick and EW and the reason I'm using the guest bathroom until he gets the point...

How long do you think this is going to last? It's going on about a week.  But I'm pretty sure I'm not giving in.

Oh, and for the record, my guest bathroom is shining like the top of the Chrysler Building!

Creepy Turd, go away.

So, yah, I guess the whole posting of "baby pictures" was sort of "asking for it" but I just deleted an entire picture blog because of some creep.

Moving on.

We're getting some snow today. But we're in New England - and we have plows and stuff. I'm just hoping to get out early so I can go play in it! I won't be posting pictures, tho - apparently that's not kosher.

Pretty in Pink

My boys. My boys. Sigh. I live among so much testosterone, it's quite surprising I haven't grown a nut yet. Alas, in the rare moments that they do things to make me all melty and girly - it's fun to share. For me. Maybe not you? Anyway....

We went to a “super bowl” party yesterday. Only half of the attendees actually watched the game. For me - it was an excuse to hang w/ my besties and let our kids run around and beat the shit out of entertain each other.

Big Kiss (4 ½) was aware of this plan all week and was stoked. He got up on Sunday morning and got dressed before even coming out of his room. So he comes downstairs dressed in his Pink Polo – with the collar popped. To his credit, he did ask me to fix the collar (dammit)…but it just made me happy.

Little things.

Right away - Mr. Kiss is all “What’s with the pink?!”

Know what my little cherub answered? “It’s almost the holiday, Daddy!” WITH attitude. Like DUH, Daddy!?

Of course, then the little one wanted to wear his pink shirt, as well – be still my Boy Momma Heart!

They wouldn’t take daddy’s “Are you Kidding me?” No for an answer and so – the icing on my cuppycake – Mr. Kiss had to take them to the town’s pancake breakfast, by himself.

Yep. Poor Daddy. Had to stand back and watch his lil' boys run around their future high-school gym covered in syrup and sportin’ their pink polos.

Heh.

The boys were a hit at the party, too – the cutest kids there if I do say so myself. See:

I mean, really - the "I got flashed" beads just complete the outfit, no? And the syrup down the front? That's scary.

Big Kiss - Just a one muscle shot. Because one of his guns is enough to crush you.

Bet your sweet asses, those are going on their Valentime Cards to their classmates. I'm cool like that.

Just a simple question

I'm feeling feisty. Or frisky. And apparently indecisive. But I've recently been pondering something and then feeling like maybe I'm a total degenerate for pondering such somethings.

Solution? Why not ask my near and dear and super close friends the question! I'll either A) feel validated or B) totally embarrass myself.

Whatever ;)

Anyway - have you ever done the deed at work? You know, bumped uglies? P in the V? The horizontal mambo? If you're so lucky to have a partner who works with you or near you, you know - have you snuck away to a conference room or a broom closet? Or maybe your door locks and so you can just get down & dirty in your office?

Damn, that would be nice. I've done this exactly once, and not all the way - but there were some knees and and an elevator involved.

Which brings me to the next question. Ever bumped your own ugly at work? And I'm assuming a "non food related" type of job here people - because, um, EW. I'm assuming an office building or something other than, you know, McDonalds.

Full disclosure, I have a door that closes and locks. I've totally committed this sin. This very lovely, relaxing, grin inducing sin.

And now I'm asking you - Spill it.

And now, a list.

Things I’m currently in love with:

The Diet Dr. Pepper

The Google

The Crackberry

The Special K Shake

The Lincoln Park After Dark

The Sharpie

The BBC World Service

The Mucinex

The Treadmill

The Diva Snuggie

The Snuggie Pub Crawl

The Body Pump

The Yankee Candle in Mango Peach

The Uggs

The Land’s End

The Modern Family

The Bo Deans


Things I’ve recently broken up with:

The Spin Bike

The Winter


The End.

Substitutions

This morning I poured a bowl of cereal, opened the fridge and realized we were out of milk. What THE? We always have milk. Unless my lovely husband has cookies at midnight and finishes the last of the milk without telling me. Lovely.

So I had to substitute. I needed my cereal.

We had coffee mate. Um. Ok. Let's MacGuyver this somehow. I added water. Water and low fat coffee cream make sorta doable milk.

And my cereal was delicious.

Also? I used our guest bathroom this morning and found out all too late that we were out of toilet paper. Since there was no one around to yell at to bring me some, and I certainly didn't intend to drip dry, I used the hand towel.

Whatever...it was super soft and did the trick.

For the record, I threw it out. No amount of bleach and hot water will make me forget that there was pee on that towel.