Accidental Brilliance

Brittany Gibbons posted today about watching Big Love and it got me thinking about sister wives and the on going joke I have with my husband. (My mind travels…a lot) He says he would love sister wives well because he’s a guy, but I don’t even argue with him because you know I could really use some help around the house.
Like today, as I sit in the dining room typing away, there is clutter all around even though I picked it up earlier today. The girls are eating a mound of ice cream in the other room and are quiet, so I’m not going to disturb that. We already traveled to the pediatrician’s office to remove a bead up the 3 year old’s nose and brought the 8 year old to and from dance class. Homework is half done, the kitchen needs to be cleaned, and the 3 year old’s bed has to be remade because she had an accident last night.
There are toys littering the floor and the bathroom that I wiped down while everyone was at school has mysteriously acquired new hair in the sink. The ice cream has been finished and so now of course they’re all bothering me to help with homework or fix a tutu or something. This is when I could use another wive. Honestly. Because then I could escape to the bathtub with a glass of wine and a book. Or perhaps I could even go on a date with my husband without having to procure a babysitter.
I know that I’ve blogged about being tired before (really seems to be an ongoing theme….), but it hit me today, that perhaps this is how women express a midlife crisis. We’ve been working for 15-20 years, married for 10-20 years, and maybe mothers for 10-15 years. It’s wonderful and overwhelming all at the same time. Until we reach the point where we just need help. Call in the reserves because I would love for someone else to make sure my children have clean feet before bed, the refrigerator has healthy food in it, and don’t even get me started on the laundry. That shit NEVER stops.
All kidding aside, no I would not want to share my husband with anyone else. But right now, as my child screams because her ice cream has melted, I sure as hell would love to hand this over to someone else. Any takers?

It’s Saturday and I’m on the couch resting watching mindless television. My family is off to see the extended peeps and well, I’m here. It’s been two weeks since the conization (cone biopsy) and I was getting ready to start working out again. I hadn’t followed the “rest” directions exactly to a T…I mean I did pick up the 3 year old here and there and there was a mattress that needed to be lifted… so anyway, here I am confined to the couch because I started bleeding heavily.
I won’t go into the details, but I left work feeling, um, saturated. The on call doctor was called and assured me that I was not going to bleed to death. My couch didn’t fair so well, but I managed to wake up in better shape. So while I wait for my body to scab over (so pleasant!!), I have to rest. No work. No playing. No working out. No cleaning. I should be relaxed about this, but I’m not because everything falls on my husband’s shoulders. He’s doing a great job as always, but I still feel guilty that I’m not helping out.
My house is slightly messy. My husband leaves for a business trip tomorrow. I have a class to worry about, not to mention a job. All of this is making me want to get up and do things. But if I do that, then I’ll be confined longer. Do you see my dilemma?There are only so many episodes of The Kardasians you can watch before you just get stupid. See? It’s already happening…

After working a 7 hour shift with no food in my system, I woke up Saturday morning both tired and hungry. Normally I would rush off to teach Zumba or go for a run, but I still have another week of not working out. (That is killing me btw…) I was glad I didn’t have much to do and set out to clean up, garden, and study. I love days when I don’t have to work or officially go to school. And my husband promised to get several bottles of wine for me to practice my flawless opening skills. Nice!
Mixed in the middle of this sweet day was a child’s birthday party. I wasn’t worried though, it was a pool party and I can’t swim yet, so that meant no bathing suit for me! And I knew
most of the moms, so I was excited to chat. Plus, they served wine and had a life guard for the pool, BONUS!! But let’s back up a little bit here….
After our gardening time, I had to get my daughter to the toy store to grab a present. This is an extremely hard concept for little ones to understand; that they won’t be getting anything at the store, but will instead pick out a present for someone else to use. Yeah, that sounds fair. Normally I have my daughters pick out the present, but trying to get a three year old to tell me what her friend likes was like trying to have her solve an algebraic equation. I guessed and found something a little girly. I hated that, but I didn’t know this child well enough to guess at anything else. My daughter spent the entire time in an old fashioned car in the middle of the store as she always does when we come here, and amazingly did a nice job of understanding that we weren’t buying anything for her. (She only hit me once.)
Back at the house, we had to get ready. Sometimes this is easy, and most times this is like trying to dress a cat. Seriously. Maybe a cat would be easier…. My daughter also has this “Beyonce Diva” concept where she believes she HAS TO change her outfits if a little drop of anything gets on them. That gets a Gob, “Come on” for sure. So even if you get her dressed, there’s the possibility that she will want to change again. The lucky thing for me today was that I didn’t really have to get her ready for the party. I had a work meeting to attend, so getting out the door was my husband’s job.
Fast forward to the party; my husband with a glass of wine already, the little one in the pool, and everyone looking happy. J went from pool to bouncy house with the birthday girl. She was extremely happy. I grabbed a glass of wine, headed to chat with my new mom friend and just enjoyed the afternoon. Eventually you have to come back to reality and get ready to go home. Why you can’t stay trapped in this blissful time warp is beyond me. As a parent, you try to prep the kids for leaving, but as my husband said to me, “she’s not wearing a watch.” Translation: She has no concept of time. I get that, but I still like to prep her anyway. I figure if she hears me say in ______ minutes we’re doing this enough times, she’ll get the gist. Sure.
After reading the book, Go the Fuck to Sleep, I feel it was written for my daughter. She is the complete stalling Ninja. Leaving a party was no different. I called her out on her tactics and even came up with a sequel to the above mentioned book, We’re Leaving Right Fucking Now! She tried to say good-bye to everyone. She tried to share her piñata candy with other children. She tried whining. I told her I would leave her on the sidewalk if necessary. I wanted her in the car. I wanted her falling asleep on the way home. I wanted to go home and have more wine!* Alas she was up the whole way home and didn’t go the fuck to sleep until 8:30.
Happy Saturday Y’all!

*To alleviate any fears- I had 1 glass of wine at the beginning of the party- 2 hours of water only.

It’s been a week since my cone biopsy, and amazingly, I’ve learned a few things.

1. I can now say things like, “My uterus hurts right now.”, and get out of doing extra work; whether it be laundry or pushing someone on the swings. I’ll be honest, it does hurt when I push myself too much, but you can only push someone on the swings for so long…. Still no lifting or working out for another week. Crazy how something I viewed as minor can affect you.
2. Wearing pads in the summertime blows. I may as well wear a diaper. I bet they are more comfortable. Between the stickiness and the whatnot, I cannot wait to heal. Whoever came up with the idea that women were delicate and not at all messy was either; a) a male, b) too young to have a period, or c) delusional.
3. I have the best family and friends who have showed their love for me by visiting, making me cookies, watching my children, chauffeuring my children, sending me text messages, inquiring about results, and even calling me on the phone (now that’s love!). Who doesn’t love being spoiled???
4. I’m super lucky to have my husband (Jon- this is the only time I’m ever going to write this down, so frame it!). Seriously he has made me top priority.

I’ll keep you posted on the results. I’m sure I’ll be fine! I have way too much life in me.

As I’ve been home resting the past few days, I’ve found myself getting into arguments with my children, who somehow have grown to accept this belief that they are entitled to an entertaining weekend. That is, they feel it’s my duty to provide exciting activities for them to participate in. I’m not an idiot, I know at some point I must have contributed to this behavior, but I know that I have certainly tried to squash it more than indulge it.
Here I am just asking for a little time to rest and I’m getting guilt trips about wanting to go roller skating or having friends come over. I’m being told that the house is boring and that we never do “what I want”. The worst part is that I’m letting it get to me instead of just saying, oh well, go outside. I find myself apologizing and feeling bad or even angry. I am certainly not boring. I may be old and tired, but not boring.
After a long talk this morning with my bestie, I realize I’m not alone in this thinking. It is common for children to push the limits and expect the moon. But they need to be told to get it themselves. I’m done reacting to, “I’m bored” or “you never let me do what I want.” From now on, I’ll have responses to that, such as “clean the windows for me, empty the dishwasher, fold your clothes, etc.” When I was a child, I don’t know if I did the same thing to my parents, but I do know I played outside all the time. I was lucky because I had a street full of children to play with all day, every day.*
While our current street is not the same; it’s too busy and there aren’t enough children, we do have a huge backyard and plenty of toys. There are trees to climb, weeds to pick, a garden to tend to, worms to find, mud to play in…seriously, so many possibilities, I may just lock them outside the next time they complain. They have the potential to be each others’ best friends. I wish they could see that.
I can hear my mother saying, well, you always had to take D places when she was little, now she expects it. But that was because I hated sitting still, not because I was trying to set up ridiculous expectations. But over the last 4 years, I have slowed down and put more emphasis on staying home and creating our own fun. I have not rushed off to playdates or signed my children up for 100s of activities. I have encouraged them to make crafts, play with the trillions of toys they’ve received for Christmas, have dance parties, create food platters, or even clean with me. The point is, there is fun to be had if they just take the time to find it. I’m getting older by the minute and cannot be the entertainment planner forever. All I wanted this weekend was a little R&R. My husband has done a wonderful job making me rest. He’s cooked, cleaned, and watched the girls. They have let me down. As a mom, it’s my duty to fill them with lots of guilt over this so they can get over this false sense of “entitlement”. Some of you might say, “I bet they just wanted to hang out with you.” Believe me, I offered them time to cuddle with me or read with me. That wasn’t the answer either. All I know is that no one should ever feel entitled to anything. That’s usually when life gives you the finger anyway. It’s better they learn this lesson now.