There's Always Next Time

After a long day of work in "Put on Your Happy Face" Hell, I made the mistake of trying to take a little cat nap on the couch...

It didn't help that I stayed out at the karaoke bar with a good friend of mine and her crew til 1AM and had to get up at 8AM (princess needs her beauty sleep), but it was so worth it. I didn't actually brave the stage, but I wish I had. It took me so long to decide on a song that I actually knew most of the lyrics to that the KJ never got around to calling me out in front of everyone - er- I mean, calling me up on stage. I really, really didn't want to look like one of those girls. You know the ones: they look like they've had far more than one too many and stumbled up on stage only to create a sound dogs would howl to. Yeah. Those girls. I don't make a habit of singing in front of anyone except my kids, and they know no better (yet).

I also did lots of heavy lifting and cleaning prior to this outing last night, as I was on setup duty at work. And this cleaning/setup process takes a few HOURS to do.

All that is just to let you know the state my body and mind were in today after a long three days of peppiness and some manual labor. My body finally told ME to take a nap. And nap I did.

...or tried.

Sure, I could have gone in my own little room and taken a nap. But the couch was so inviting, and should my mind not let me fall asleep, there's the TV right there to entertain and possibly bore me into slumber land.

I didn't even spell REM before wonderful Husband#2 and his buddy come crashing through the door to the apartment. Clearly a blind man could see I was asleep on the couch, but did Mr. Wonderful make any attempt to keep it down?? Of course not. That would be decent of him. Oh, no, he started banging things around, turning on all the lights (because you know how dark it is at 4 in the afternoon), and talking above a normal volume.

Did he at least apologize?? -you ask.

No. HIS FRIEND, however, felt a twinge of guilt or decency and apologized for him. My sister, upon hearing this, asked if my response to his friend was, "You see why I'm divorcing him, right?" Unfortunately, in my groggy state, I didn't. Dang it.

Next time (and I'm sure there will be a next time) I'll have my ammo ready.

So I turned a year under 30 yesterday…

And I received so many “Happy Birthday” comments via The Book – which really made my day special. I feel fortunate to have had so many people recognize my birthday. From my sister dedicating her status and a blog post to me, to new friends who also made my big day seem important – I am grateful for it all.

That being said, that’s kinda where it ended.

Husband#2, who travels for work and is never here during the week, wasn’t due home til around 6:30pm on Friday. I told him the kiddos and I would wait for him to eat my birthday dinner so he wouldn’t be excluded (we normally head for dinner around 6). He called when he was about to get on the plane and said it was my birthday, so I could pick where ever I wanted for dinner.

Well, he was late getting back from the airport – which wasn’t a big deal, as my kids had been turned into zombies and were playing games on the computer; and I wasn’t in any danger of starving or anything.

In his defense, when Husband#2 did finally arrive, he was baring 5 red sun flowers – which I thought was pretty cool. He commented that he had just recently discovered that I don’t like roses, reading my ancient myspace account. {{seriously??}}

Anyway, I told Husband#2 I wanted to go to Chow Baby – one of my fav restaurants, but we rarely go. He said he really wasn’t that hungry, as he had eaten a late lunch, and probably wouldn’t be up for the size portions you get at Chow Baby. Um... Okay... So I suggested we find some new restaurant none of us had ever been to – something I love to do. Don’t know why, but I do.

His suggestion?? “I think there’s a Zaxby’s the next exit up.”

I know what you’re thinking: Was he kidding??

The answer is NO.

I made a shocked face like, “How could you possibly suggest ZAXBY’S for my birthday dinner?!?!” – my birthday dinner that would be the only big thing we’d do in honor of My Day.

He just looked back like, “What’d I say?”

I gave him the benefit of being a male and let it go… until he started throwing out Applebee’s and O’Charley’s as more ideas.

Hello – Did anyone else hear me say somewhere NEW? – that none of us had ever been to before!

omg.

Well, I finally got that concept through to him, and we got in the car and gps’d it: searching for restaurants near us. I threw out a bunch of names, but HE wasn’t into any of them. He finally said, “How bout hibachi?” Okay… This I can work with. It’s fun, and we never go somewhere like that.

But it was harder than expected to search for via gps. We found a Japanese place right beside our apartment, but they only served sushi – a definite no go for me. The man at the counter suggested Mt. Fuji, so I gps’d that, and off we headed.

All along the way we got our usual dose of negative energy: Husband#2 even cussed out a car whose way he got in… sigh.

Our gps unfortunately gives us a pretty big general area to work with some times, so we ended up not finding Mt. Fuji. :( We did see a small fair that was set up where it led us, though. The kids were excited, and I must say, so was I. I hadn’t been to the fair in a couple of years – and never here in Georgia – so I told Husband#2 to stop there. But... HE didn’t want to go, so we didn’t.

Are we seeing a pattern here???

By this time Husband#2 was STARVING, so we couldn’t look for Mt. Fuji any more. There was an Atlantic Buffet, or something like that, across from the mini-fair. So we settled on that. The food was horrible, the staff not very friendly, and no song or anything for the birthday girl.

Also for my birthday I got to hear how crappy my third child (aka: Husband#2) felt all through dinner.

I guess I’m being selfish or self-centered here, but it all just really bummed me out. Going from my mom’s over-doing EVERYTHING for every holiday and birthday – making sure every one of them felt like something special - to nothing being done at all…. Well, it’s a huge leap.

I Wanna Be a Peacock

I think I'm being stalked... by Husband#2.

Within seconds - SECONDS, people - of updating my status to "Hail!" today, he was on the phone calling me to "check on me".

Maybe it's just me, but it seems rather creepy - even if it's my own husband.

And it isn't just this one instance. If you've read previous posts of mine, you know. He does all kinds of checking up on me, and it's kinda annoying.

I mean, who wants a stalker? Even if it is a loved one... especially if it's a loved one. That isn't love (to be stalked; to be placed in a cage and admired).

Which leads me to my recent fascination with peacocks. I've been contemplating the why of peacocks, and I think I've come up with a new explanation. I used to think it was because one of the symbolic meanings I've found is "spiritual transformation" - which is definitely part of it: I've been very into searching within (and hope to maintain that search and not let it just be a passing fad).

And then there's the more obvious relation to peacocks: vanity. I used to be more vain. I don't think I'm quite on that path any more, though - or at least I hope not. I don't even wear makeup any more, which is a huge leap from where I used to be: never leaving the house without my mask on. It's gotten to the point where I actually think I look "weird" when I do wear it now.

Ever since I decided to use a peacock as the subject for the art auction project I did with my daughter's class, I have seen peacocks EVERYWHERE: pictures, charms, on books... I'm one of those that believes in signs and everything happening for a reason. And how can I not, when I pick up a book at random and just happen to flip it open to a page with a peacock on it?

I also spotted a pillow at Target recently (which I now wish I had taken a picture of so I could post it on here - I think my blog needs more visual aids...), which led me to my latest interpretation. The pillow, of course, had a peacock on it. And also on the pillow was a cage. The peacock wasn't in the cage, naturally - but next to it.

So, an empty cage in the upper left and peacock in the lower right. The meaning suddenly flooded my mind in one of those Ah-ha! moments: The peacock is always free. It's never locked up in a cage. It's the one free to roam about at the zoo.

You Have 10 Seconds…

Husband#2 & I took the kids to this little Italian place nearby for dinner last night. It’s this place called FIGO, which has the same idea as one of my favorite Atlanta restaurants (Chow Baby), except it’s just pasta. I have to say, the food wasn’t all that great – and I don’t think it was our fault, since (unlike Chow Baby) you don’t get total creative control over the creation of your meal. Basically: you pick your pasta, you pick your sauce, and then you can choose to add chicken or whatever.

Christian’s new favorite color is green, so he went for the green noodles. I just knew he wasn’t going to like it, but I let him pick it anyway. And wouldn’t you know it……..

GABI is the one who ended up hating her pasta!

We told the lady the kids like Fettuccini Alfredo (yes! they finally like pasta with a sauce – instead of just the noodles). We were told, however, they didn’t have Alfredo sauce (that should have been our 1st sign: What Italian restaurant doesn’t have Alfredo sauce??) – but the lady behind the counter assured us they had something similar.

To our surprise, Christian woofed down ALL of his pasta. He had the same sauce as Gabi, and so did I. My opinion: it really was kinda yucky. :/ especially if you’re expecting something similar to Alfredo. I mean, I didn’t even finish all my pasta. And pasta is my FAVORITE.

So, when Gab had only eaten one noodle (even after we had sent her food back to be remade), Husband#2 fired off to her, “You have TEN seconds to get that food on that fork.”

Gabi proceeded to grunt, sit up in her chair, grab her fork, and stab a noodle……. then sink back down to sulk about how nasty her meal was.

I couldn’t help it: I DIED OUT LAUGHING!!

Husband#2 shot me a look, thinking I was defying him, of course.

“You told her she had ten seconds to put the food on the fork… You didn’t tell her to put it in her mouth and eat it.”

It’s just so funny to me how literal kids are sometimes.

I Know Husband#2 Well Enough to Know…

When he says “this person” that someone is a she. For some reason, though, he never says she or her until I refer to this person as a he.

It’s always, “This person at work sent me an email… They wanted me to do this or that.” Or like just a few minutes ago when he rushed to get off the phone with me because this person had just walked into his office.

Question: How incriminating would it sound if I was the one always referring to men as “this person” ??

I mean, does he work with a bunch of transvestites? And he doesn’t know how to address them – trying to be politically correct and all. Is it a he? Is it a she??

Yeah. That must be it….

Is It Just Me??

Husband#2's mom called my mom while I was in town for the wedding this past weekend and asked that I stopped by to pick up a wedding gift from her cousin that had just been mailed to her - Husband#2 & I were married back in September. But that's not even the weird part...

I opened it today, and inside was one towel set. Just one.

[Let me interject: this reminds me of the Angela Johnson skit where she's talking about Beautiful Nail - "just one"]

But, yeah: One towel, one wash cloth, and one hand towel. This just baffles me. I mean, shouldn't there at least be TWO towels in a WEDDING gift? Maybe it is just me... or maybe it's an omen or something.

Twice in One Day

Sometimes I think Husband#2 LIKES to piss me off... I mean, I know why he doesn't want my kids eating in the car (he doesn't want them trashing the new car - I get it). But what about roadtrips?? Isn't there some sort of statue of limitation on depriving children of food for this many hours? There's gotta be some fine print allowing for food/drink in the span of SIX HOURS in a car, right?? I think so... but maybe that's just me.

Grrr

Stay Outta My Pocket!!

You know that little "pocket" in your car door? For me, that is my little pocket of trash. My kids always seem to have wrappers or scraps of something that they so graciously hand off to me while I'm driving, and this is where it goes.

This pocket is also where I slipped up this week: I made the mistake of emptying some of the no longer needed reminders of what I'd bought out of my wallet. Now, normally, I clean out my lil' pocket before Husband#2 comes back into town (he travels for work and is gone Monday - Friday every week). It's just that little something extra I do, because I know a clean car is one of his pet peeves.

Blame it on exhaustion after a long day of work, the fact that he's been getting on my "list" more and more lately, or just plain ole mom brain... I didn't get around to cleaning out my pocket this week. Then, add to this: I went into the drug store to pick out some goodies to hide in the Easter eggs and left my husband alone in the car with the kids - and you've got yourself a disaster waiting to happen.

Husband#2 proceeded to go through my pocket!! And not in a "here, let me help out my sweetie and throw this trash away for her" kind of way (like he'd like me to believe)... oh, no. More of his side job as a master detective (let me interject here that my husband is an IT consultant and in no way qualified or even naturally born as a sleuth).

"Oh, come on, Camille... You're just being paranoid," you say??

When I got back in the car I was greeted with, "Who did you buy a Panera gift card for??" (Tone is important here, but obviously I can't do it justice)

OMG. That receipt was wadded up and in my lil' trash pocket, along with snot rags and everything else. Seriously?? He waded through snot rags to pry in my trash pocket?? First off: that's just gross. And, secondly, I didn't know I had to request permission to buy someone a gift!!

For the record: the gift card was for the grandfather of one of my kids' friends, who just happens to pay for our dinner just about every week when we join them for Mariachi Monday.

I asked him later, if he had really just been throwing out the trash to help me out, then why did he need to open up and read the details of my receipts.... He said, "Well, I had to look at it - I didn't want to throw away something important." Oh, Come on!! The waded up TRASH didn't give it away that, that is what was in there?? It's no secret; I've told him I use that as a trash pocket before.

You know, it's funny... I've always heard that suspicion is usually a sign of someone else's guilt. Maybe I should be checking HIS pockets...

"I'm Sorry For Annoying You"

Is that really the text I got from Husband#2??

And here I was, worrying I wouldn't have anything to write about... Ask and ye shall receive!

Yes, this is the text I received from wonderful Husband#2, in response to me telling him I feel like he tries to control me and what I do. All I wanted, after a long day at work, was some of my newly acquired favorite broccoli cheddar soup that only Panera Bread knows how to make right (I tried making it on my own the other night - my 2nd attempt - and it still didn't taste "right").

"Okay, well I gotta run... I have about 30 minutes to eat before I have to go pick up the kids," I said after a 10 minute convo on nothingness.

"Oh. What are you gonna eat?" <--the tone is of vital importance here, but I can't convey it properly, so why try...

Me: "My Panera." (all chipper and happy like)

Husband#2: "Oh....... Um...... Didn't... you... just... go to WalMart the other day? I mean, didn't you buy FOOD. What did you buy??"

Oh. No. He. Didn't.

I know he didn't just go there. I know he didn't just ask me that AGAIN - especially not after he already asked me that same question when I told him how much I spent there on the day of. - not after I went through and detailed out my shopping list for him in a very sarcastic, "are you kidding me right now??" tone the other day, just to get the point across. - not when HE is going out to eat EVERY SINGLE NIGHT in Pennsylvania. - not when I know zip about what HE buys and does five days a week up there. - not when HE spends more in one sitting (going out and drinking) than my two kids and I spend in our one meal.

Is it too late to say, "Don't get me started" ??

"What did I buy... Well, let's see... The kids were out of shampoo, so I thought I'd go ahead and get them some. My toner/face wash stuff is low, so I went ahead and got that, too. Oh, and I ran out of the cotton balls - had to get those. Um, let me think... We had no toilet paper - had to get it. And no trash bags either. I mean, I can keep going if you'd like, or maybe you'd like me to break it down even further when I get home and can look around and make sure I got everything."

I don't like being interrogated. - especially when I'm working, too. And even more so when I rarely do much of anything for/with my kids (as far as spending money goes).

Why is it okay for him to question what I'm doing when HE'S got the anonymity thing going on up there in PA? Do I request a copy of his AmEx bill and verify purchases with him? Do I ask why he dares to withdrawal $20 or $40 from the ATM every few days??

No. I don't. And I don't appreciate it being done to me. Nor would I want to do that to someone. I'm no detective, and neither is he - so I wish he'd stop acting like it. Or maybe he should consider a career change.

So, yes, that was the text I got. That was my deep, heart-felt apology. No "I'm sorry" for anything HE did - but "I'm sorry for annoying you."

Nice.