I Just Want To Make It To Cocktail Hour

I love being a part-time stay at home mom. I do. It's just that sometimes I feel a little overwhelmed and that is when I need to escape.

For a couple of weeks now I have been looking forward to getting together with my girlfriends for a "Ladies" Christmas party. I use the term "Ladies" loosely because we act more like drunken frat boys when we are all together.
My evening is all lined up. Blake is staying home with Addie. Mee-Maw and Paw-Paw are taking Tyler for a special evening- this means even more spoiling from them than usual.

The anticipation of my joyful girls night out was so exciting that I didn't even blink this morning when I came downstairs and found that Archie had pooped on the rug- recently washed from the last time he decided to take a dump on the floor. When I went to flush his little present down the toilet, I stepped in a huge puddle of pee. I decided to blame this on Scarlett because she just looked guilty.

Trying not to cuss in front of Tyler, I banished both dogs outside to take care of business. For some reason they think that since it's cold outside, they can poop and pee in the house. While I am making breakfast Tyler asks me if he can let "Carley and Arcie" back inside "pease". I tell him no. There's a couple of minutes of silence and then he says, "Mom, Arcie cold. Pease."
Oh fine. Let them in.

Scarlett has been shivering and the only thing I can find for her to wear is a t-shirt that says "Vote for Pedro". She likes to linger by the fireplace for warmth. If the dogs quit pissing and pooping on my floor, Santa is going to bring them Snuggies for Christmas.

Addie had a little flu bug yesterday. She puked three times. I am so happy that she is sleeping it off.She looks like a sweet angel in her sleep. I am glad she is feeling better. One because she is just such a sweet baby and two because I really want to go to cocktail hour and a sick baby would put the kibosh on that.
We are finally dressed and heading to my sister-in-law and brothers house to see my new nephew. I have only seen him twice since he was born. I've been working and when I haven't been, my kids have snotty noses or the runs. Not good to take Germ I and II around a new baby.

I hear a horrifying sound from the back seat and smell bile and bacon. Tyler's turn to projectile. I feel so bad for him. I think puking scared him more than anything. I call my sister-in-law. "We can't make it," I tell her. "Kids still sick."
I am afraid Jenny may begin to think I make this stuff up. Tyler cries the whole way home because he wants to go see the baby. I am in tears because I don't think I'll be making "Ladies" night.

He refuses a bath and I don't want to fight him. I will just turn this into a teaching moment about good hygiene. We practice washing hands. Apparently this is fun for a two-year-old. He spends the next hour in the bathroom "watching mine hands".

No one eats lunch. The scent of bacon and bile is inescapable. I put them down for naps early. My mom calls and I now have the task of delivering bad news ... "Tyler is sick. I don't think he can spend the night tonight."
God Bless her. She doesn't take no for an answer. She says that unless he pukes again, she still wants him to spend the night. Score! There is a glimmer of hope left for my night out.

The husband calls. He doesn't think it is a good idea for Tyler to spend the night at my parents if he is sick. I tell him it is not a good idea for me to miss cocktail night. I am beginning to feel like a caged animal and I'm not sure that is good for our kids' well-being.

Yesterday I had a dance party with the kids. I was feeling a little wild and I let the I-Pod just play randomly. Tyler told me he liked my favorite song- Hypnotize by Notorious BIG. I didn't really think it would be a big deal to let him listen to my workout playlist. He's only two and doesn't really listen to the words in a song. Wrong. He has taken to calling Addie a "Silly Hoe". Thanks Biggie.

Today he told me that I had a "Big Tinky(stinky) butt." Kids say the darnedest things- which means that even if he has a little bug, he must be feeling good enough to say something cruel to his mom. Sounds to me like he is just fine to go to Mee-Maw and Paw-Paws. Sounds to me like Blake has Addie tonight and I'm going out to play with the girls.

Gold Chains N Thangs

My husband is many things. He is a great husband and dad. He is tall, blonde, attractive, obsessed with sports, freakishly smart, and shy. Shy that is- until you really get to know him. Once he’s warmed up to you, he is very sarcastic and he will tease you without mercy. That is why I don’t feel bad writing this blog entry and poking a little fun at one of Blake’s less admirable qualities- a fondness for 1980’s gold chains.

I came across his beloved gold chains when we moved in together many moons ago. I had this great little house and it was decorated exactly the way I wanted- a vision from the Pottery Barn catalogue.

I told Blake that though I was excited to merge our lives; my vision of our future didn’t encompass some- if not most- of his things.

“Think of it as like a rental- where all of the furniture is already included,” I told him, trying to cushion the blow. “All you need is to bring your clothes and toiletries.”

I thought my biggest battle would be the ESPN banner that he wanted to hang in the family room. I was wrong. The gold chains took the cake.

He found them in a box of shit that his mom had sent along with her blessing for us to move in together. A non-hoarder like myself, I’m sure she was thrilled to get rid of “Blake’s Stuff” as the box was clearly labeled in black marker.

In a fit of nostalgia, Blake emptied the contents which included old Nintendo games, yearbooks, sports rosters, baseball cards, mixed tapes, pictures, and even some old love letters. His face really lit up when he found two hideous 1980’s gold chains.

It was a nice little story. He told me that his mom had bought the chains for him- one with his number on it- when he made the varsity baseball team. Half-listening I smiled and nodded while the voice in my head screamed, “Confiscate those and hide them immediately.”

I tried to make light of it. I joked that the chains would have to stay in the lovely box of memories. “NO ONE besides Mr. T, Ice T., and W.T. wear gold chains,” I said.

Defiant, and maybe a little hurt, Blake put them on and promised to wear them everywhere we went.

I am not a total b, so I let him wear them to a party or two where I knew everyone would be too toasted to notice. He was so proud of embarrassing me that I think those chains became a symbol of all the things that I made him leave behind.

After a while the matter of the gold chains died down. One day he took them off to shower and didn’t put them back on. After a couple of days, I did what I felt was necessary. I threw them away.

I felt no guilt over this at the time and for the first couple of years of our relationship, I denied that I had any idea where the gold chains were.

On our one year wedding anniversary, I finally admitted to the atrocity that I had committed. It wasn’t guilt that drove me to confess. It was the wine and the man sitting next to us wearing a pimp suit and gold chains.

Over the years our relationship has deepened and so has my guilt. My husband accepts me for who I am. One of the things that I love most about him is that he could care less what I wear. My attire these days mostly consists of beat up jeans and an Ohio State sweatshirt. He thinks that’s sexy.

The 50th wedding anniversary is the “Golden Anniversary”. I pledge now that on Oct. 8, 2,055 I will make it up to Blake. His gift will be a box full of memories of our life together and you guessed it- two gold chains. I am going to have our jeweler make the most ostentatious number 50 for him to wear proudly all around the nursing home.